guilded ・cages
by BlackLabrynith
Summary: "Who am I? I find it hard to answer that, even to myself." Hollyleaf, a noblewoman of the middle realm of Atlas, is on a journey to find where she came from, who she really is, where she belongs... Human AU.{ᴾᴸᴼᵀ ɪs ᶜᴼᴾʸᴿᴵᴳᴴᵀ ᵀᴼ ᴹᴱ.}
1. The Cast

Protagonist - Hollyleaf is a black haired girl with green eyes. Hair is usually braided. Hollyleaf is considered the most cunning and bound to the Atlas code of the three siblings, prone to thinking out strategies carefully rather than rushing in blindly. She is always trying to think of what would benefit all people and not just herself. Hollyleaf is the thinker, the politician, sensitive and cunning and aware of all the different consequences that might come from a single  
action. For her, the Atlas code is the root and reward of every choice a Atlasan has to make, and she would tread the hardest paths to defend it. Wit can be sharper than claws, she knows that from expreience. Of the Pevensy Dynasty. Seventeen.

Biological Father- Crowfeather is a muscular man with smoky gray, almost black hair and blue eyes. Has a past (and still ongoing) love interest in Leafpool. Thirty-eight. Beast. Of the Clonmel Dynasty.

Biological Mother - Leafpool is a slender light brown haired woman with amber eyes. Leafpool starts to develop feelings for Crowfeather, though they are from different Dynasties and Leafpool is not allowed to take a mate, being an ammbassador. Thirty-six. Of the Sweven Dynasty.

Aunt- Squirrelflight is a dark ginger haired woman with green eyes and sun-bronzed skin. Is Leafpool's sister. Thirty-six. Of the Pevensy Dynasty.

Half-Brother- Breezepelt is a sable-haired man with amber eyes. Arrogant, fierce, loyal, short-tempered, brave. Of the Clonmel Dynasty. Eighteen. A beast. Of the Clonmel Dynasty.

Brother - Lionblaze is a muscular golden haired boy with amber eyes. He is the warrior, a hunter and fighter and brave. Falls inlove with Heathertail while he is brethrothed to Cinderheart. Future head of the Pevensy Dynasty. Seventeen

Brother - Jayfeather is a gray haired boy with blue eyes. He is typically grumpy and easily angered. Is married to Halfmoon. Seventeen. Of the Pevensy Dynasty.

Cousin- Bramblestar is a muscular dark brown haired man with amber eyes and ruddy skin. Husband to Squrrielflight. Head of the Pevensy Dynasty.

Maternal Grandmother - Sandstorm is a pale ginger haired woman with green eyes. Sandstorm is known for having a fierce personality and easily annoyed. She is also capable of being gentle, however, as seen by her interactions with Firestar, her children, Squirrelflight and Leafpool, and her grandchildren, Lionblaze, Hollyleaf, and Jayfeather. Fifty-four

Paternal Grandmother- Ashfoot is a gray-haired woman with kind amber eyes. She is very perceptive and observant, and can usually tell what others are feeling by reading thier faces. She is not judgemental and tries to be fair, never lettineg her emotions get out of control. Of the Clonmel Dynasty.

Maternal Grandfather- Firestar is a flame-colored haired man with deep green eyes. Firestar is fiercely loyal not only to his Dynasty, but also to his many friends and allies that he meets along the way, regardless of their affiliation. He respects the rules of his superiors, but also has the insight to look beyond them in order to properly judge a questionable situation. Fifty-six. Head of the Sweven Dynasty.

Paternal Grandfather- Deadfoot is a black haired man with keen yellow eyes. He is the husband of Ashfoot. Of the Clonmel Dynasty.

Great-grandfather (Sandstorm's father)- Redtail the Great was a ginger haired man who was formally the head of Pevensy until murdered by Tigerstar. He was brother to Leopardfoot, Tigerstar's mother, and Spottedleaf. He was the son of Adderfang and Swiftbreeze.(deceased)

Great-grandmother (Sandstorm's mother)- Brindleface was a kind-hearted woman with soft eyes and gray hair. She was affectionate and loving to everyone, treating them as her own children no matter who they were. She was wife to both Redtail and Whitestorm and mothered Ferncloud, Sadnstorm, and Ashfur. She was also murdered soon after having Ferncloudd and Ashfur. Her parents were Fuzzypelt and Robinwing. She was foster mother to Cloudtail. Of the Pevensy Dynasty(deceased)

Uncle- Eaglekit was the son of Ashfoot, and brother to Crowfeather, and died at an early age. Of the Clonmel Dynasty

Half-Great Aunt- Ferncloud is a motherly woman with dark gray hair and pale green eyes. She is wife to Dustpelt and mistress of the Mendebras Dynasty. She has four surviving children: three sons, and a daughter. Of the Mendebras Dynasty.

Half-Great Uncle- Ashfur is a tall, gray haired man with stunning, dark blue eyes. He shares the thought with his brother-in-law, Dustpelt, and cousin Thornclaw, that there is need for a new government in Atlas. There was a point when he was inlove with his half-neice, Squirrelflight. Of the Mendebras Dynasty.

Great-Great Uncles-  
Dustpelt is a sharp-tounged man with dark brown hair and amber eyes. He is a loyal, and skilled fighter as the head of the Mendebras Dynasty. He is a warm and dedicated father to his children and does his best to protect his children whom still live. Fifty-nine. Of the Mendebras Dynasty.

Ravenpaw is a pale, black-haired man with yellow eyes. He is shy and nervous around other nobles outside his family. He was harshly treated by Tigerstar when they trained together, and escaped to Revenant when he saw his sister, Brindleface, and her husband murdered. He is good friends with both Graystripe ane Firestar, and has returned to the Pevensy Dynasty. He has lost his old nervousness and is now confident and outgoing. Fifty-six years old.

Great- Great Aunts-  
Spottedleaf was a beautiful dark haired woman with warm amber eyes and long lashes. She was in love with Firestar, but at the Ambassador of the Pevensy Dynasty, she could not love him. It was a blow to her when Sandstorm left the Pevensy Dynasty to marry Firestar. She watched as he became a father to Leafpool and Squirrelflight, and there was a time when she attempted to split him and Sandstorm. She died soon after with a broken heart. Of the Pevensy Dynasty. (deceased)

Leopardfoot was sister to Spottedleaf and mother to Tigerstar. She was a slender, black-haired woman with green eyes. She was also sister to Redtail, which gave her a place in the Pevensy Dynasty. Of the Pevensy Dynasty. (deceased)

Frostfur was a white-haired woman with green eyes. She mother to Thornclaw, Brackenfur, Cinderpelt, and Brightheart. As sister to Brindleface, she lived with the Mendebras Dynasty for sometime before moving in with her son, Brackenfur. Of the Aisling Dynasty. (deceased)

Cousins-  
Cloudtail is a blue eyed man with shaggy white hair. Though he is rather short in statue, he is loud-mouthed an arrogant. He is sharp-tounged and jumps in a the first prospects of a fight. Cloudtail is nephew to Firestar, foster-brother to Ashfur, and husband to Brightheart. His daughter's name is Whitewing. Of the Sweven Dynasty

Tigerstar the Ambitious was a broad-shouldered, dark-haired man who was the instigator of the Great Rebellion. He was a handsome one, with smoldering amber eyes and golden skin that had the ladies swooning. He had four children by two women. He was a master of manipulation and deception, and killed his uncle, Redtail the Great and Brindleface, his wife. Former head of the Pevensy Dynasty. (deceased)

Tawnypelt is a slender, swarthy haired woman with dark tawny curls and green eyes. She is well-muscled, after always being pressured to focus on combat training by her father, Tigerstar. She is blunt, tough, and stands for nothing from anyone, yet has an affectionate side to her. Of the Pevensy Dynasty.

Mothwing is a beautiful golden haired woman with mesmerizing amber eyes. Her father was Tigerstar, and for a time, she served as the ambassador of the Nyland Dynasty before giving the role to Willowshine. She is ambassador of the Pevensy Dynasty.

Hawkfrost is a large, well-muscled man with icy blue eyes and dark brown hair. He bears a striking resemblance to Tigerstar, and ran away to Sirocco to feed his ambition for power, where he is now general. He is brother to Mothwing.

Darkstripe was a black and gray haired man, thin and lanky in statue, who was Tigerstar's right hand man. He hardly liked anyone and was always belittling those around him, especially Ravenpaw. He was sly and cunning, and not to mention very cruel. (deceased)

Sorreltail is a chesnut-haired woman with amber eyes. She is the mistress of the Aisling Dynasty and is Leafpool's closest friend. Sorreltail is rather talkative and hardly seems to is cousin to Sandstorm and mother of Cinderheart, Honeyfern, and Poppyfrost. Of the Aisling Dynasty.

Sootfur is brother to Sorreltail. He is a tall man with light grey hair and amber eyes. He is hotheaded and known for being rather rude and pushy at times. Of the Aisling Dynasty.

Rainwhisker is brother to Sorreltail and Sootfur. He had dark gray hair and blue eyes. He is seemingly the opposite of his brother in personality, always calm and caring. However, he is easily annoyed with Sootfur. He is half-brother to Longtail and Graystripe. Of the Aisling Dynasty.

Graystripe is a friendly, comical man with bright yellow eyes and long gray hair. He makes even the more humorless nobles laugh and is all around very loveable. He is the head of the Trentham Dynasty, best friend to Firestar, and cousin to Sandstorm. He has two children from his first marriage to Silverstream(deceased) and three children from his second marriage to Millie. Of the Trentham Dynasty.

Tigerheart is the first son of Tawnypelt. He is a handsome, swathy skinned boy with blue eyes and dark brown hair. He bears a striking resemblence to his grandfather. However, he is cheerful and kind. Of the Pevensy Dynasty.

Flametail is the second son of Tawnypelt. He is a short boy with bushy ginger hair and faded green eyes. He looks up to Jayfeather and is training to become ambassador under Mothwing. Of the Pevensy Dynasty.

Dawnpelt is the only daughter of Tawnypelt from her marriage to Rowanclaw. She has light blonde hair and though she might appear dainty, she is a feiry one, just like her mother. She is also the best fighter out of her siblings, and is very close to Hollyleaf. Of the Pevensy Dynasty.

Stormfur is a muscular man who has dark gray curls and amber eyes. He was formally inlove with Squirrelflight, and was very close to Hollyleaf's brother, Lionblaze. He fell love with Brook from Revenant, and they married. He is grandson to Crookedstar of Nyland, and brother to Feathertail.

Feathertail was a silver haired beauty with soft blue eyes who was betrothed to Crowfeather in his younger days. However, she died a few months after the annoncement. She was a duel wielder, as her mother from from Nyland and her father, Graystripe, was from Trentham. Of the Trentham Dynasty. (deceased)

Briarlight is a crippled brunette who is training as ambassador of the Trentham Dynasty. She was crippled in a riding accident and is doted upon by her mother. She is kind, thoughtful, but sometimes forgetful. Of the Trentham Dynasty

Blossomfall a light brown haired young girl who loves to put on airs. She is betrothed to Toadstep, and is sister to Briarlight and Bumblestripe. Of the Trentham Dynasty

Bumblestripe is a fifteen year-old boy with pale gray and black hair. He is in love with Dovewing. He is the son of Millie and Graystripe. Of the Trentham Dynasty.

Dovewing is a curly-haired ball of energy who everyone loves to dote on. Her hair is a pale gray and her eyes are bright blue. Her parents are Whitewing and Birchfall. She is betrothed to Tigerheart. Thirteen years old. Of the Aisling Dynasty.

Ivypool is a silver-and-white haired girl with dark blue eyes. She is jealous of her twin sister, and does her best to train in combat. Thirteen years old. Of the Aisling Dynasty.

Molewhisker is a brown-haired child of six who is always making mischief. He is loyal and driven, but can be somewhat dense. He is son to Poppyfrost and Berrynose. Of the Aisling Dynasty.

Cherryfall is a ginger haired girl who is kind and helpful. She is sister to Molewhisker and daughter to Poppyfrost and Berrynose. Of the Aisling Dynasty.

- Friends -

Love Interest- Fallen Leaves is a muscular shouldered young man with ginger hair and white streaks and with green eyes. Fallenleaves is kind, caring, and brave, also very protective and understanding. He is husband to Hollyleaf. Peasant. Nineteen.

Possible Love Interest- Rainstorm is a blue-gray haired young man with striking blue eyes and handsome Greecian features. He is a strategic thinker, cunning and intelligent. He enjoys coming up with solutions for problems, and though his is understanding, he can be impatient and hot-tempered. Eighteen. Of the Nyland Dynasty.

Brother's Wife- Cinderheart is a gray-haired woman with blue eyes. She is feirce, yet soft-spoken with a wonderful sense of humor. Seventeen. Of the Aisling Dynasty.

Brother's Secret Love- Heathertail is a pretty, well-mannered light brown haired girl with stunning heather-colored eyes. Heathertail is hurt when Lionblaze decides that they must put their respective Dynasty first and that their relationship can no longer continue. Betrothed to Breezepelt. Sixteen. Of the Clonmel Dynasty.

Friend-Foxleap is a red-haired boy with bright green eyes. He is feisty and somewhat outspoken. Foxleap is loud, and sometimes, others consider him disrespectful. Of the Mendebras Dynasty. Eighteen.

Friend- Berrynose is a golden-blond haired man. He is a proud one, always boasting. Of the Mendrebas Dynasty. Twenty-one.

Friend- Mousewhisker is a gray-and-white haired man, and Berrynose's brother. A close friend of Hollyleaf's. Has a thing for her/might have a crush on Minnowtail. Of the Mendrebas Dynasty. Twenty-one.

Friend- Hazeltail is a small gray-and-white haired woman. She is quick-witted, and pretty easy-going around her brothers. Sister to Berrynose and Mousewhisker. Of the Mendrebas Dynasty. Twenty-one.

Friend- Harespring is a brown and white haired young man. He is the compassionate kind, respectful to his elders and loyal to his friends. He works hard to please those around him, as is always watching out for his peers. Of the Clonmel Dynasty. Eighteen

Friend- Ivytail is a pale, black haired girl. She is rather sickly. However, she is very sweet and soft-spoken, and is a peacemaker among her peers, always very patient and gentle. Adopted into the Sweven Dynasty. Originally from Anujda. Fifteen

Friend- Owlclaw is a broad-shouldered, brown haired boy. Eighteen. Adopted into the Sweven Dynasty. Originally from Anudja. Twenty.

Friend- Olivenose is a shy, quiet girl with thick nut brown hair of the Anujda Dynasty who was taken in by Llainfair. Fourteen

Friend- Minnowtail is a gray-and-white haired woman with amber eyes and a sense for mischief. She is impulsive and willing to try anything. Minnowtail is also sassy and feirce whenever the need arises. She looks younger than twenty-two years of age. Of the Nyland Dynasty.

Friend- Pebblefoot is a gray-haired man who is twin to Minnowtail and is twenty-two years of age. He is often grumpy and unsociable, snapping at those who irriate him. Of the Nyland Dynasty.

Friend- Pouncetail is a slender, brunette-haired man known across Atlas for his skill in swimming. He is enthusiastic, fun-loving, and a wonderful listener. He is easy-going and understanding. He is really protective over Moissypaw. Nineteen. Of the Nyland Dynasty. Brother to Willowshine.

Friend- Willowshine is a gray -haired girl with blue eyes. She is one of Hollyleaf's best friends, but she doesn't like Jayfeather as much, as he snapped at her on their first time meeting each other. Ambassador of the Nyland Dynasty.

Friend- Swallowtail is an adventurous boy, whose dark-gray hair sticks out all over the place. He is free-spirited and is a real joker. He hardly ever listens to others, and is always getting into some sort of trouble. Of the Clonmel Dynasty. 13 years old.


	2. Switchblade Romance

|switchblade romance|

The realm of Atlas. A realm whose political system was unlike any nation known to historians. The people of Atlas were not governed by a monarch, nor was the country a republic. Rather they were ruled by the dynasties, eight houses of noble beginnings, each as powerful and a wealthy as the other. Five of the eight boast their noble blood from the that of the Founding Fathers of the nation. The other three were admitted into higher places of the nation's hierarchy due to some heroic act or intermarriage. Each Dynasty was granted a province, which bore their family's name, and an Element, the Earth's finest gift, by the all powerful Acazin. The Pevensy and Sweven families shared the element:Fire, The Llanfair and Nyland families shared the element:Water, the Clonmel and Mendebras families shared the element:Air, and the Aisling and Trentham families shared the element:Earth.

Beneath the dynasties, there are the Lessers, those of the middle class. Those honored enough to be elevated into those ranks were successful merchants, scholars, and the servants of the Dynasties. Beneath the Lessers, were the Peasants. The hard-working farmers, bakers, and so on. Now, each class was intricately woven together to make the foundation for one of the greatest Nations of all times.

Above all was the Acazin. Many might call what the Acazin did, sidereal, or even preternatural. She was the mouthpiece, the mortal, tangible body for the Fates. The present, past, and future. She was the wisest of all the people of Atlas, the one held in the highest regard. The Earth regarded her as the leader of Atlas, and respected her, giving her the power to wield all that Mother Nature possessed. She lived upon the Earth's goodness, until Mother Nature turned her favor to another of the Eight Dynasties. Then, Acazin was rejected, and for the power which Mother Earth had given her, she returned to her the living breath. The most recent, and perhaps the most felt death of the Acazin had been of one called Cinderpelt, of the Mendebras Dynasty. She had been a trusted advisor and beloved leader to all, sharing her wisdom when it was needed. However, all of Atlas held its breath. At the next Eclipse, the new Acazin would be chosen from among the Dynasties. Now, the Dynasty's of this current age were the following: the Pevensy Dynasty, the Sweven Dynasty, the Llanfair Dynasty, the Clonmel Dynasty, the Nyland Dynasty, the Trentham Dynasty, the Aisling Dynasty, and the Mendebras Dynasty.

In the past, there had been much conflict among the Dynasties, for the Sweven and Pevensy Dynasties had been constantly at odds. The head of the Pevensy Dynasty, at the time, had been Tigerstar the Ambitious. In an attempt to become king and untie all of Atlas under his rule, he took the life of his Uncle, Redtail the Valiant, who had then been the head of the Pevensy Dynasty. His aunt (Redtail's wife and sister to Frostfur of Mendebras) Brindleface, happened to see the act, and one dark night, when she was escaping to the Mendebras Manor, she mysteriously vanished. Tigerstar finally became head of the Pevensy Province. About two months later, his aunt's and uncle's bodies were found in the Nyland Province, and the evidence pointed to Oakheart, Crookedstar's brother. Using his manipulative ways, Tigerstar manages to persuade the Nyland house to his side. Crookedstar was at sea that the time, and had left Leopardstar in charge of Nyland. Leopardstar soon fell head over heels for Tigerstar and followed him into war against the Dynasties, Trentham and Sweven. However, the Acazin took charge of the battle and gave Firestar the strength to kill Tigerstar.

Now, it is the turn of the 17th century, and peace reigns once more. Firestar has taken the lovely Sandstorm, daughter of Redtail the Valiant, as his wife and had a pair of twins. His daughter Leafpool is the current Ambassador of the Sweven house, under the oath never to marry, and his daughter Squirrelflight was married to the head of the Pevensy dynasty, Brambleclaw. With him, she had triplets. Their names were Lionblaze, Hollyleaf, and Jayfeather. And this is where our tale begins, sixteen years into their lives.

†・†

– Hollyleaf –

This was her. This was how she always was. The loud, meaningless voices of those dining on the lower floor irritated her. She felt caged. Like a trapped bird. She had locked herself away again. This time on the roof. The cool summer air brought clarity to her mind, the winds removing her unease. All this laughter and mirth, it was trivial to her. The truth was that she relatively disliked the company of people. They made her uncomfortable; she always felt trapped. Their presence unnerved her. Not by her own choosing, of course. It just happened.

Slender hands gripped the varnished wooden rails as if they gave life. Squeezing her fingers senseless had a calming effect on her. A chill swept down her back, her eyes watering as the wind forced its way past those lashes. Her eyeballs stung with unshed tears. The darkness of night did well to cloak any emotions… or tears that might have fallen through that façade she usually wore. The lady's head was troubled with the aches and pains of fatigue and the burning in her eyes did nothing to sooth them. Goosebumps appeared across her skin, spreading quickly and becoming more pronounced the longer she stood outside. Here was something she felt keenly, this crowded solitude that she could not explain to save her life. The forests that stretched out across the walls surrounding the Sweven Manor called to her; she felt the tug, the need to be among the trees she had known so well in her childhood and knew even know.

Music wafted out of the windows and up to her ears, drowning out the laughter of the idly chatting nobles beneath her. It was all so hypocritical. The nobles would laugh, gallivant, and chat, appearing to be friendly with their enemies but considering ways to be rid of them. She was sick of it. She could feel so keenly their masked hatred for one another that it had stifled her.

It appeared to her that when Sirocco or Revenant joined forces to attack the middle kingdom of Atlas, the nobles of Atlas would be scrambling to make alliances with one another. It was a grim foretelling, she could see. Atlas was too greedy and self-centered for a king, and scoffed in the face of the unity of the Eastern and Western Countries. However, their haughty airs would soon be smashed by the storms of war and their tender ego would soon be ripped away from them. It mattered not to her, really, for she did not love this country, neither was she of this country, at heart.

The noble inhaled sharply, her hand stealthily moving downwards to her hipbone and beneath a fold of her dress, and fingering the dagger underneath the cloth as the door to the terrace opened. The footsteps of the intruder drew close; she readied herself to strike. "It's only me," the intruder soothed, his familiar voice instantly relaxing her fears. Her hand slid off her dagger hilt. A smile pulled at the corner of her lips as she turned to face him.

He wore a silken tunic, black woolen trousers, and a green tailcoat of which materials she could not identify. She hardly recognized him, with his shaggy brown and blonde hair combed away from his face, his swarthy skin moist with a thin layer of sweat. Hollyleaf resisted the urge to grimace, turning back to the railing as her beloved joined her by her side. They had not seen one another in a week or so, and it had unnerved Hollyleaf to be unable to see him for so long. But that would change. Her grandmother, Sandstorm, had given to Hollyleaf, the gift of a Revenant mare, dappled grey in color with eyes as blue as the skies above. That would be a sound excuse to go and visit the stables more often, to visit her mare, and to visit Fallenleaves.

She opened her mouth to speak, making sure that he could not see the see the tears that now threatened to make themselves known to the person whom she trusted the most. "Are you allowed in these quarters?" Her tone was curt, though she hadn't meant it to sound so, and her voice was thick with emotion. Beside her, Fallenleaves either did not hear the brusqueness in her voice, or chose to ignore it.

"Perhaps I am not, or perhaps I am. The lady Ivytail made sure to invite for a reason I know not of." Hollyleaf's cheeks became ruddier, and she pulled the sheer hood of her cloak over her raven curls. Was he really that oblivious to the lady's advances on him? Day and night, Hollyleaf was forced to listen to Ivytail gush of the stable boy, Fallenleaves. She intended to have him elevated to a house servant, so that she couldn't have to go riding just to see him.

It had surprised Hollyleaf, however, when Fallenleaves had accompanied lady Ivytail and her court into the province of Sweven on the account that the horses needed to be cared for. She had confronted the lady about this when Hollyleaf had been coming Ivytail's sable locks. "Why has the stable boy joined us for this banquet?" Ivytail had simply shrugged, looking at her reflection in a mirror. "I simply think that our horses desired his company. He takes very good care of them, you know." At that moment, Hollyleaf's eyes had met those of Ivytail's and both burst out in laughter.

Fallenleaves was no doubt taking advantage of the lady, simply to keep Hollyleaf in his line of sight. Yes, they had been through so much together. She only nodded at his words, wondering if the other stable boy, Leaftail, had been invited to the banquet. There was for a moment, comfortable silence. "I wanted to ask you…" his dark eyes blazed as he searched her face, his fists curling into two hard balls, "if you would marry me."

This was the manner in which Ivytail found them in, the stable boy on his knees before the apparently aloof Hollyleaf. "What is this?" Hollyleaf almost cringed when she heard Ivytail's curious voice breaking the silence that before had reigned supremely. Fallenleaves' soulful gaze still remained on her, and Hollyleaf felt compelled to accept him at that moment, for she was lost within his eyes. "I shall consider your request, Fallenleaves," she told him quietly, before swiftly walking away. She managed a courtesy before disappearing inside the building, back into the festive mansion. A lone tear trickled from her eye, and she quickly wiped it away before inhaling, and stepping into the ballroom, a winning smile upon her face.

– Fallenleaves –

Desperation. It swept over his body like a waterfall. He simply knelt there, his eyes glued to the place where she had stood gracefully before him. The stable boy could not suppress the feeling of guilt that cloaked him now. He knew for many years she had put up with him, and vice versa. However, it had never been as evident to him as it was now. She had apparently denied his existence, and at the same time, released him of the doubt that indeed, she loved him. Fallenleaves had become so accustomed to her by his side, or him by her side. She had truly become his reason for living, and if she left him now, Fallenleaves was perfectly aware and ready to admit that he would be lost without her. She was the only thing truly kept him alive, and yes, he had to admit that he had once thought of marrying the noble lady. Always stay true to the Atlas code, he had so often told himself.

His thought process vaporized before him as he felt a slender hand upon his shoulder. The young man dared to glance up at the woman, and could not help but feel a pang of disappointment when he saw the face of the Lady Ivytail. Her face was slender, her full blue eyes looking down upon him in curiosity. Fallenleaves looked down slowly, smiling as her hand dropped from his shoulder. He backed up from her, bowing. "Good evening, Milady," he greeted her respectfully.

"Rise, Fallenleaves," she replied, and he rose to meet her smiling face. "All is well with you?" The stable boy simply gave an indolent shrug, his eyes rising to the night skies, his heart yearning for redemption. "As well as it will get, milady." His reply gave forth no emotion and a feigned lightheartedness which he had become used to.

The noble woman simply eyed him, her arms crossed across her supple chest. "Come riding with me, Fallenleaves," she whispered softly, her breath barely touching his skin as she moved closer to him. The stable boy kept his gaze on the skies. "Milady should not be out here in these cool winds," Fallenleaves remarked as a breeze swept towards those upon the roof, cooling his hot skin. The sickly lady backed away, and nodded. He had successfully thwarted another advancement on his part. His body visibly relaxed as Ivytail departed, leaving him alone.

Perhaps he should search for his lover? No, Fallenleaves told himself, shaking his head. Hollyleaf needed space, no doubt. He intended to give it to her. He could not become a bother to her… but he should at least keep her in his line of sight, no? But what if she thought his presence restricting? No, he was not to mind that, he thought as he reentered the mansion. Her happiness in life had, overtime, become his sole priority. He was expendable, while her life was worth something. These were the thoughts of the brunette-haired stable boy as he maneuvered his way through the masses of nobles. Of which he was not.

His lips curved upwards in a smirk as he rounded a corner to see Hollyleaf seated in a gilded chair by Lady Ivytail, a flock of young nobles hovering around them. It was quite amusing, he had to admit. Some of the edible nobles were openly flirting with the ladies of the court, and while Ivytail returned their attentions, Hollyleaf's apathetic face gave no one encouragement. However, they still continued to look her way. Yes, that was the power Hollyleaf had. She was striking in the most fascinating way. Her features, her demeanor, her statue, everything.

Fallenleaves stood now, in the shadows of those who mingled, watching the woman he loved. Her chin rested tediously in the palm of her hand, her eyes fixed on an object not seen by any mortal but herself. He slumped against the wall, his eyes roving the room. He was eyeing the faces of those around him, searching for no one in particular. His hair felt itchy on the nape of his neck. He longed to be back in the stables.

Perhaps he should go for a ride to cool himself down. But it meant leaving the city gates and that could be a hassle, having to go past the guards. They'd ask him where he was going, and command that he return to wherever he came from. Fallenleaves was not in the mood for such games. The company of these superficial people bored him to the utmost degree, and the stable boy wanted nothing more than to return to his homeland. A doubt settled within his heart as he watched her. If she did not accept his proposal, what would he do with his life? He felt as if he had been born to love her. Were his arbitrary words to end this life as he knew it? The thought sobered and discomforted him. In this world, what was real? What was the truth? What stood eternally?

A hand upon his arm destroyed the man's train of thought, and for a minute, he forgot where he was. His first thought was to look to the chair in which Hollyleaf had been lounging. She was not there. In the stuffy room, the candles seemed to flicker in unison at every wind that came through the curtained windows. His eyes roved the room once more, this time with purpose. He relaxed visibly when he spied her dancing with Foxleap who appeared to be quite entertaining to her. Her face was filled with laughter, apparently at something the redhead had said, and the sight unnerved him for no particular reason. At that moment, her gaze met his. He tried to tell himself that she didn't look smug at that moment. Hence, he focused on her eyes. She blinked twice at him, her green eyes catching a flicker of candle light and almost seeming as if they were liquid emerald. She boldly held his gaze as she danced with the nobleman. Fallenleaves could not properly read her gaze; that was queer for him, for he always knew she was thinking simply by looking into her eyes.

Uncomfortable once more, his eyes roved around the hall. His eyes rested upon his good friend, Jayfeather, and his wife, Halfmoon. The newlywed couple seemed to glow as they waltzed, blissfully oblivious to those around them. Nearby stood Lionblaze and his wife, Cinderheart. The two did appear happy, yes, but Fallenleaves sensed a tension beneath the façade the couple had donned. He had always had this gift…this gift of reading people. And it might not be clear to those around him, but it was clear to Fallenleaves that Lionblaze had a mistress.

The two young males of the Pevensy Dynasty had married well, and for now, that was all that mattered to the heads of the Sweven and Pevensy Dynasties. They had no doubt that soon a proposal would come Hollyleaf's way. Foxleap of the Aisling Dynasty had taken a shine to the young mistress, and by the hazy look in his eyes whenever he glanced at her, he was very deeply in love with the witty lass. And seeing those looks, Fallenleaves could not withhold the jealousy that he felt rising within him.

It was not only Foxleap, but Owlclaw also had been constantly by Hollyleaf's side. Owlclaw had fallen beneath the guise of cousins, but Fallenleaves was well aware that Owlclaw had fallen head over heels for Hollyleaf. His blue eyes followed the sable-haired woman wherever she glided, blowing his bangs from his eyes every once in a while.

All was jealousy within his heart, and Fallenleaves had to constantly tell himself that he was the one who held her heart. The only one.

– Hollyleaf –

She stood before the mirror, relishing the silence that cloaked her. Her reflection seemed fatigued, her green eyes no longer alight with excitement, and her cheeks no longer pink with blush. Her black locks were twisted into one long braid which hung her shoulder, laying across milky white skin. Dis-ease settled across her demeanor like a rain cloud over the sun.

She had a secret. What kind of secret it was, not even she knew. But it was one to be kept with the utmost care. She had kept it from her brothers when they appeared normal wielding only one element: Fire. It was different for Hollyleaf. She was different.

It had hardly been something to concern Hollyleaf at a young age, but she had come to realize that she could not just ignore it. She needed answers to these questions. How could she, however, find out her true origins? Perhaps she could ask Aunt Leafpool, the ambassador of the Sweven Dynasty and also the family historian.

No," Hollyleaf told herself, slowly turning away from her reflection. Her aunt would suspect something, and Hollyleaf did not need a snooping adult in her afairs. They might find more than they had bargained for. Her hands clasped behind her back, Hollyleaf began to pace, her brows furrowing in deep concentration. Agh! The tears had threatened to come, and it was not long before the first drop of deluge fell from beneath those lashes.

Was she a monster? A freak of nature? All she ever wanted to be was normal. It was obvious, whoever, that she was not. Her birth had broken the sacred Atlas code… she was a beast. The thoughts of the sable-haired lass drifted on the winds. There were legends, myths, of man-beasts who lived in the mountains to the west, in the Clonmel Province. As far as history was concerned, Tallstar had driven them out, and sent then into the western kingdom of Sirocco. It was rumored that not all of these man-beast had perished.

Hollyleaf was living proof that this sinful race still existed, still lived among them. It also meant that Squirrelflight was not her mother. She was not nobility. She this was not her home, and she had never belonged here. Every month when the full moon arose, she would be forced to lock herself away from those whom she loved. She would make an excuse that the monthly curse was upon her. Not even Fallenleaves knew of her feline state, though sometimes it seemed as if somehow, he knew.

Now, once again, the full moon had risen, locking her away once more from the festivities her family had thrown on her brother's behalf. Was Jayfeather even her brother? Now that she thought about it, Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw were most definitely not her parents. No one had even really been able to explain why she had black hair and why her brothers didn't.

Lionblaze was most definitely their son, with his golden locks and his amber eyes. The boy's features closely resembled that of Squirrelflight, while his body and eyes were all for his father. Jayfeather on the other hand, he resembled their Aunt Leafpool in his facial structure. However, his silver hair and blue eyes were something unheard of in the Pevensy and Sweven line.

As for Hollyleaf, she looked nothing like her "parents", except for her mother's eyes. Otherwise, her skin was not ruddy, like those of her siblings and parents. And anywehere she went, She stuck out like a sore thumb with her raven like hair. The only people who shared her hair color were Ivytail, who was not even directly related to her, and Crowfeather, Breezepelt, Nightcloud, and Tallstar of the Clonmel Dynasty.

In the darkness of her room, the young mistress could not help but consider escaping the four walls that surrounded her. Her secret was exactly the reason why she had declined every marriage proposal that had been bestowed upon her. She did not want another wicked creature to be born into this world, a world that hated and despised them.

And Fallenleaves. Hollyleaf stared down at her gloved hands. She loved the man, she truly did. She had persuaded him for so long that it was due to the Atlas code that they could not be united in the act of marriage. But it was the fact that she was a beast… She couldn't stay here.

Hurriedly, she exchanged her dancing gown for a simple dress of a becoming shade of gray. A burst of cool air wafted in as the noblewoman threw open her windows, the crickets calling her, luring her into the night. She jumped out of her window, her pupils black slitted voids in pool of vivid green. It would not be long before it was time for the transformation. Midnight was soon to chime.

Hollyleaf ran as if a spirit persued her. She had to get away. somewhere she would find peace in her true form. The forest. Those words flashed into her mind, and Hollyleaf had to do her best to reign back the instincts of the jaguar that was soon to surface. "Just a little more," she told herself, charging through the gardens. Her hair, now unraveled, flew out behind her like a raven cloak as she maneuvered her way to the eastern wall that surrounded the Sweven Manor.

Hollyleaf launched herself upwards, her muscles tensing with the effort. In a moment, she had mounted the vine-laden barrier that had lain between her and the forest. Now, she was free, and just in the nick of time, as the moment she leapt down from the wall, the clock struck midnight.

The jaguar confidently propelled herself up onto the ridge. The world around her was almost silent, having gone to sleep for the night. She was not like that though. The black cat felt most alive in the darkness; her nature drove her to it. Settling herself down, she curled her tail regally about her paws, seeming as one with the night, except for her green eyes, which shone with the vibrancy of youth and wisdom.

About her, nature stopped; all became quiet. The owl, the cricket, the croaking frog, ceased their ghostly music to the moon, sensing that she was among them. They were not perturbed or intimidated by her presence. All the contrary. These creatures of the night were in wonderment of her.

†・†

– Hollyleaf –

The forest was a haunting place, chillingly empty and quiet as it floated within the thick shrouds of morning fog. Like the anguished cries of long-dead souls, the traveling zephyrs wailed mournfully among the trees, a heartbreaking song that throbbed inside the jaguar's eardrums. Through this, however, a profound silence blanketed the area like a thick veil, ruthlessly stifling the land with an acute sense of tranquility. Moving with the liquid grace in which only those of her kind possessed, Hollyleaf drifted through the trees with a fluid slink. Her furry tail coasted behind her rump, twitching aimlessly; her augustly structured head hung low, swaying with her gait and watching the lush green tendrils of grass pass beneath her fervent gaze. The moon, a shimmering silver coin suspended in the waking skies, plentifully bestrewn with fading alabaster stars, wavered gently on the reflective surface of a small puddle, though the image was shattered as a raven paw broached the surface, quickly dipping in then out in swift profession.

A surge of air rushed into her lungs as she gave a heave, and within seconds her body weight was suspended heavily atop a low lying branch of the nearest tree possible. After a minuscule pause in which to assess the power and thrust needed to jump to the next branch, Hollyleaf gave another robust launch, and alighted once more among the emerald clouds of soft leaves. Within moments, the beast was draped across the highest possible limb in which could support her weight.

The sun was rising now, and the giant red orb kissed the horizon before climbing, as if on some ethereal staircase, into the sky. Her dirty raven coat nearly appeared blue in the much brighter luminescence of the sun as the lazy jaguar lolled about her perch, nestled fairly high up in the canopy. An immense yawn stretched her muzzle a considerable extent, and her ivory fangs gleamed white in the light of the sun.

Soon, it would be time to return, the beast thought to herself, her eyes scanning the forest which lay beneath her. She vaguely wondered what she would eat when she returned to that of her human form… All thoughts of food vanished as those large ears twitched. Sounds, the vibrations of another life. Breathing, pawsteps, a low growl. The bushes shuddered. Grass swayed, whispering apprehension to the wind. The birds continued to sing, while the tree branches shivered, looking down from lofty heights to see who would emerge from the depths of the foliage below.

A flash of sable. Narrowed green eyes scanned the forest's underbrush with caution, her head low to the soft dirt below her nostrils. She took a hard breath in from them, her shoulder muscles rolling beneath sleek black fur as she skulked through the early morning shadows. No doubt, if she had sensed this male, he had sensed her.

It was with utmost vigilance that the woman-beast crept forward, weaving through the trees of her woods, a snarl forming in her throat. This male was of her kind, a beast. It was not the sleekness of his jet black fur, his striking appearance, nor the shrewdness that shone deep within the blue of his eyes. No, it was his simple ferocity that attracted her to him. He was like her.

From the shelter of the foliage, the woman-beast watched her kind as he sniffed about. By his demeanor, it was obvious that he knew she was there. Then why did he not approach her? No doubt he was human too, one with manners. Her green eyes slid across his every feature as he prowled, pacing the forest floor as if awaiting another presence. The beast was a noble looking feline, bearing a shapely head upon broad shoulders. Even through the thick swaths of mist, his chagrined gloom pervaded the atmosphere. a grimly sarcastic expression twisted his handsome features. Did she dare advance?

– The Beast –

It was at the time of early morning, when the first rays of the morning sun appeared at the fringes of the night skies. A heavy mist hung over the forests, blanketing everything and fogging his vision. Watery diamond hung upon every leaf, every blade of grass, the forest floor coated in a delicate layer of dew, coloring the forest silver. The scene appeared sidereal, as if it was something only seen in mythical story books. However eerie it seemed, it was evident that nothing could be more beautiful. And her presence made it even more ethereal. Her beauty seemed not of this world, bearing with its magic, a piece mystery.

It had been a shock to discover her existence, as he thought that only he and his father were the only remaining beasts. However, somehow, he had stumbled upon a female. It had been a pleasing shock to the man-beast, and he had done his best to keep to himself until she had recognized his presence.

His heartbeat thundered within him, her scent filling his nostrils. She was so close. Who was this beast? Among the noblitiy, no doubt. The beasts only ever hid among the nobles, ensuring thier bloodlines for years to come. The Anudja Dynasty, with Blackstar at its head, had been found to be the most corrupted. Almost everyone in that Dynasty had been found to be a beast.

When the Acazin had found out, she had ordered the anihlation of the Dynasty, and offered nobility to Firestar if he could do so. Firestar kept his word, and built Sweven on the ashes and dead bodies of the Anudja this was Ivytail, the last daughter of Anudja. But no, Sweven would not have kept her if she had beast bloodlines. No, this female was from the house of another noble.

"I know you are there." His mew was rather gruff, ddue to the fact that he had just awoken, and in the mornings, his voice was always rather deep and gruff.

"And I am aware that you know," she responded. Her voice was light, her words laced with silver as they carressed his ears. He stopped pacing now; he could do nothing with his body. It refused to move. Perhaps this was her power: paralysis.

In the rising sun, her green eyes shifted into a beautiful aeneous hue, flecks of hazel shimmering as she stepped forwards into the full carress of the sun. She stood only a head below him, which was rather tall in beast standards, much less that of a meager human.

"Who are you?" she inquired, her brows furrowing in an obvious mixture of curiousity and fascination. An aeolian song writhed through canopy above, waking those of the avian kind who were not already joining in melodious song.

"That should be my question, dearest stranger, seeing as I roam these woods more often then not, and this has been the first time I have been graced with your presence." He was circling her now, his amber eyes twinkling with dark mischief.

By this time, the beastess should have been very much afriad. Not knowing your enemy's power was something bound to get you killed. This beast appeared fearless in her ways, and for a moment, the beast found himself admiring her foolish bravery in the face of caliginous danger.

– Hollyleaf –

Her head was filled with the lively noises of the forests now, from different creatures of all shapes and sizes. Yet, out of all the cacophony, the female jaguar's ear sifted through the noises, focusing on one sound in particular. The familiar sound of footsteps, a confident gait. Man was in the forest.

Instantly, at the thought of someone finding her in this form, a capricious growl rumbled in her throat. They would hunt her, and they would kill her. The sudden carress of a silkly tail upon her shoulder suddenly reminded she wasn't alone.

She hissed, her green eyes narrowing as she pulled away. She tasted the air once more, recognizing the scent of someone form the manor. Were they looking for her? In anycase, she must stay hidden until the clock stuck noon. She had no power to return to her mortal form until then. She didn't intend to be found until she did.

With those thoughts, Hollyleaf dashed from the encircling of trees. The vivid green slowly blurred into a collective celadon color, waving thier slender arms to the passing celeripedean as she darted through the forest floor. zthe grasses brushed against muscular shoulders.

The feline chatelaine had never been so glad to be out of the manor. The harsh music of the cicada had never before been more comforting. Perhaps it was because this was the first tim she had become a beast here, in Sweven. And her grandfather's history with beasts - what would he say if he knew his own granddaughter was one of those hated animals?

Hollyleaf's mind snapped back to the present. She needed a place to hide. Soon, the forest would be overflowing with Firestar's hunting party and thier dogs. No tree could hide her then. She needed something dark.

And soon, she found it. Her citadel came in the form of a dry cistern which had been fed by a tunnel series and an underground river. It was perfect. As she climbed into the narrow opening, the noble looked over her shoulder. She must kept this side of her existance clandestine. It was for fear of her life.

She disapeared into the beckoning darkness, travelling a bit futher into the cistren before curling up, her head upon her paws. How long can I continue live like this? Hollyleaf wondered, before I am found out? The question resounded through the empty cervices of her mind, calling out for an answer, and lulling her into a restless slumber.

†・†

– Hollyleaf –

Civility was something to be kept in tact despite dislike habored against whomever the person of ill attentions might be. It was with this strained civility that Hollyleaf of Pevensy regarded Breezepelt of Clonmel. Clemency had forced her to stoop to his level of arrogant clerisy, and she had in vain attempted to hold a formal conversation with this aristocrat. However, by the time they were only three minutes in, Hollyleaf would have happily fallen back on colloquial gossip.

Breezepelt apparently expected her to put forth effort to conciliate him. However, it was not to be on Hollyleaf's part. For so many times in thier "proper" conversation, Hollyleaf had been forced to quickly convalesce from a coated insult and many a barbed word. Hollyleaf truly missed, and now truly appreciated the coterie she had left at home in Pevensy, and wished ever so fiercely to be returned there.

While other normal young nobles at the picnic participated in harmless dalliance, she was decrepit listening to someone who considered himself daedalian. She had deigned to far now, and perhaps this was payment. She felt that she would soon even eneter delirium, but not from fever, from Breezepelt's twisted philosophy of life.

Hollyleaf's eyes travelled listless around her grandfather's demesne. Her peers seemed to be having a enjoyable time, especially Lionblaze. He had turned all his attentions to a pretty young woman from Clonmel by the name of Heathertail, while Cinderheart chatted with Halfmoon. Hollyleaf dissimulated her envy. She was stuck with the disagreeable Clonmel.

Suddenly, she snapped back to the young man across form her who now held her attention.

"You know, while hunting yesterday, a black jaguar was sighted. Many say it was a beast." Hollyleaf nodded with interest, her pulse quickening as he smiled.

"Yes, my brother was there. He said he had never seen such a large beast." Just for fun, Hollyleaf leaned forward as if studying something on Breezepelt's face.

"What?" the aristocrat snapped.

"My brother said the cat had amber eyes, much the color of yours."

Breezepelt was about to let forth some scalding remark, when Fallenleaves intervned, requesting Hollyleaf's presence in the stables to check on her mare. Hollyleaf excused herself with ebullience, happily following Fallenleaves away from the cross Clonmel aristocrat.

"You've saved me, Fallenleaves," she smiled, pulling a widebrimmed hat over her ebon locks. "He was terrible, really."

"Glad I could be of service to mi'lady," the stable boy replied, a smile lining his words. On the way to the stables, Hollyleaf fell in step with her lover, and she could not help but feel that life was indeed elysian, as she took hold of his hand.

The young mistress felt completely at home the very moment she entered the stables. The smell, the sounds, all of it was beautiful. Closing her eyes and relishing the moment, the sable-haired woman allowed her servant to lead her to the stable of her horse.

"Ember!" Hollyleaf grinned, opening her eyes and releasing the hand of her suitor to carress her animal. The mare whinnied, nosing Hollyleaf's hair affectionately.

"Sorry I have not been able to ride you, girl." She ran slender fingers through her mare's mane. "I'm cursed for a week."

Hollyleaf could not get over the feeling that she was being watched, and to look over her shoulder. Her eyes met Fallenleaves emerald gaze. It held love, confusion, worry, all directed at her. Hollyleaf quickly turned away. Did he suspect something? Her brows furrowed, and then relaxed once more. No, he couldn't. She was far to careful.

"You look quite fetching in your gown, mi'lady," Fallenleaves whispered into her hair, all of a sudden behind her. Hollyleaf smiled, completely relaxing as he encircled his arms about her waist. She lay her head upon his chest, removing her hat.

"Thank you, dear sir," she replied, smiling contendedly. "Shall we frolic in a frescade?" She looked up into his beautiful face, all of a sudden falling more in love with him than ever before. She would just say yes to his proposal of marriage, and they would move to Revenant, and live out the rest of thier days peacefully and in love. Right?

Wrong. She would have to stay here. Hollyleaf was not the only one who felt the strained relations with Sirocco. The entire country was feeling it. And everyone of the nobles were well aware that the peace in Atlas was fugacious. Sirocco would soon launch a war compain.

A furtive kiss on the cheek brought the young mistress back to the present, back to her love. His skin was dusky, his arms rippling with muscles from his work in the stables and in the fields. "I love you," she whispered, looking up into his eyes. "So much."

There was silence for a moment.

"Then marry me." She felt down-trodden once again.

"I want to... I really do, but..."

"You cannot because you are bound to the Atlas code," he said slowly, pulling away, his head down.

"It will work out," she sighed, reaching for his hand and bringing it to her lips, closing her eyes to the tears the threatened to come. His sigh was audible.

"Tell me, young mistress, is our love an illusion?" his tone was pained, and Hollyleaf was startled at the question.

"No, Fallenleaves, why would you-"

"I see how the young noblemen react to you. You are beautiful, and they know it." He glanced down at their entwined hands. "I just feel that I might not hold your heart anymore, that you have found another lover."

She could understand the impetus of his question. Hollyleaf knew that she had percurred the attentions of Foxleap and Owlclaw, both from good Dynasties. Both would be promising matches for her. Hollyleaf's cheek grew incalescent under Fallenleaves' incisive gaze. He could read her so well but that didn't mean he could read all of it.

The delicateness of the situation called for insouciance, or blithe nonchalance. And she much as Hollyleaf detested herself for using this move on her lover, she had little other choice. She was to be married soon, and it would most likely not be to Fallenleaves.

"You do hold my heart, dearest, and you always will," Hollyleaf soothed, her words flowing smoothly together. His irises seemed to dilate, and then narrow before he spoke again.

"Yet you cannot marry me?"

"Yet I cannot," she affirmed. "I lack only the courage."

"If you truly loved me, courage would come with your love for me." he huffed softly.

That was a blow to Hollyleaf, and she truly began to doubt her love for this kind, gentle man. But her love for him, it was all that was there for her, it was all she saw. The thing that truly kept her away from him, was that she was a beast, and he had been born a hunter. Kismet evidently did not want Hollyleaf to be happy in this life.

The laconic Jayfeather would have known what to do no doubt, but he could never know. About the other side of her or Fallenleaves. She needed someone like her. Someone she could trust. In this world of selfishness and betrayal, she could find no one.


	3. Chasing of the Winds

|chasing of the winds|

– A month later–

An urgent matter had called him to the Sweven Province, one concerning all of Atlas. The slender young man stared out of the tinted windows of his carriage, his eyes roving over the peasants and Lessers rushing about in the streets.

Such petty people, he thought to himself, his jaws tightening. Yet, they are better than we of the nobility.

All everyone thought about in the Atlas realm, was wealth. In fact, Breezepelt recalled that wealth and territory were the sole reasons why the nobles had no yet united into a greater force. However, he thought grimly, I'm afriad this meeting will change that. It wasn't esoteric knowledge that the Siroccan Kingdom had accused Atlas of killing thier citizens in the border towns and things like that.

Breezepelt was well aware that it was not the soliders of the Atlas core, nor was it going to stop anytime soon. Whomever was carrying out these attacks wanted a full out war. Now Atlas was in a good position for war. They had recently signed a Non-Aggression Pact with the government of Revenant. This had only been possible due to the fact that Jayfeather of Pevensy had married Halfmoon, princess of Revenant. However, it was not a complete solution to the problem of the looming war.

Wolfheart, the daughter of Runningstorm, the general of all Revenant forces, had been wed to Scorchfur, king of Sirocco. Wolfheart's mother, Foxcatcher, had been against it from the very start. But Scorchfur, being advised by Sol and Mapleshade, had sent an envoy led by his younger brother,Toadfoot, requesting Wolfheart's hand.

Runningstorm accepted for his daughter, of course, only thinking about the fact that his family were now royalty in Sirocco and high-ranking officals in Revenant. Thus, it was highly possible that if Atlas was to ask aid from Revenant, Runningstorm would refuse, due to the fact he did not want to wage war against that country... or it's queen.

Breezeepelt huffed to himself, his amber eyes narrowing in anger. Someone had been playing their cards well, and Atlas would no doubt be on the receiving end.

"Sir?" Meadowpelt's voice broke him out of his thoughts. "Is there something ailing you?"

Breezepelt forced a tiny smile, shaking his head at his advisor. The blonde-haired man simply nodded, raising a perfectly trimmed eyebrow before returning to the documents he had been going through a second before.

The ebon-haired aristocrat glanced down at his gloved hands. It didn't help the situation that he was in line to the Siroccan throne. His mother, Nightcloud, was a cousin to Mudclaw, the deceased king of Sirocco. If all the males in the royal family died, the crown would fall to him. Yet, he was also in line for the leadership of the Clonmel Dynasty. If by chance both were to fall to him after this war, which path would he choose?

It was clear to him that perhaps Sirocco would be the better choice, after all, Clonmel still had Onewhisker and Harespring as potential leaders to carry on the Clonmel line. Regardless of what was the better choice, Breezepelt was fully aware that the noble of Atlas distrusted him, and had no idea where his loyalty lied. Was he to prove thier judgement correct and return to the court of his mother? That was something Breezepelt's pride would not allow him to do. But if the time ever came...

The carriage lurched to a stop, breaking Breezepelt from his reverie once more. They had arrived. The Clonmel noble waited for a servant to open the door, before stepping out onto the circluar cobblestone drive of the Sweven mansion. As he rounded the carriage and came into full view of the mansion, a small army of servants awaited him. They all bowed when he made his apperance. He dipped his head to them, and intstantly, they sprang to work, taking his luggage from ontop of the carriage.

As he entered the mansion, he noticed that there was no life present in the hallways. A shuffling sound nearby. Breezepelt looked down the hall once more to see a girl dressed in a plain gray gown, her black hair covering her face as she kept her head down. She was emerging from a room, a few books under her arms as she closed thevlarge oaken doors behind her. She was a maid, no doubt. No noblewoman would wear such a dull and simple gown, Breezepelt decided.

"Girl!" he called out, looking down at his gloves as he removed them from his slender hands, easing them off finger by finger. The footsteps which had been echoing through the hallway ceased as she stopped.

"Tell your master and mistress I have arrived." Her back was still turned to him.

"You may take my coat while you are at it."

Still, she apprently refused to acknowledge his presence as began walking again. Breezepelt's shock was soon overpowered by fury. How dare this peasant ignore a high-ranking noble such as himself? The gull she had.

"I said, take my coat, girl," he hissed, his anger echoing through the walls. She stopped once more, and Breezepelt grunted. So, she has understood her mistake, eh?

But the next words that came out of the servant's lips, anger the Clonmel aristocrat further, for his pride had taken a blow.

"Do it yourself," she replied, not even looking to face him, and walking on once more.

"You insolent dog," Breezepelt growled, pursuing her down the hall. "I'll have your head for the disrespect you have shown me. And you dare to walk away from me?!" Breezepelt's face was beginning to burn a bright red, a telltale sign of his rage. Never in his life had he been so disrespected.

The woman entered a door on the her right, and as Breezepelt was about to follow her insde, she slammed the door in his face. Now, she had really done it. He was determined to hang her yet. Dare she undermine his status? Mumbling angryily to himself, he swung the door open, ready to curse that contempteous servant girl to hell.

"You insolent-" Breezepelt stopped himself. Rage quickly became embrassament and he dipped his head. Before him sat an elegant bluish-gray haired woman, age wrinkling her features, her blue eyes disapproving.

"Here are the books you desired, Madam Bluestar," the gray-clad girl said, placing the books on the table beside the head of the Llanfair Dynasty.

Bluestar's peircing gaze left Breezepelt for a moment, to glance fondly at the young woman, before returning to Breezepelt. The young nobleman bowed in apology.

"I apologize, Madam Bluestar for intruding in such an undignified manner." He raised himself, looking down at the withering old woman. How was she still alive? "Do forgive me."

Instead of hearing a response from the Llanfair woman, a middle-aged man witht the same bluish hued gray hair spoke up, his blue eyes cold.

"Why were you allowed inside in the first place, did not the guards detain you?" Breezepelt recognized him as Stonefur.

"There where no soliders, my lord," Breezepelt replied, as respectfully as possible. "And I was simply looking for Firestar to inform him of my arrival." Stonefur learned forward, whispering something into his mother's ear. The woman let forth a croaky laugh... if that could even be called a laugh.

Breezepelt eyed mother and son with a cool glance, before his eyes roved over to the form of the servant girl.

"Hollyleaf," Bluestar called, summoning the black-haired woman from the corner she had been reading in. She looked up, and for the first time, Breezepelt saw her face.

Her face was angular, her cheekbones high upon her face. Her skin was a milky white, but a few freckles sprinkled upon the bridge of her nose. Her dark curls brought out the intense green color of her eyes, and they way she held herself told she was of noble birth. How had he not seen this before? This was Hollyleaf, a daughter of the Pevensy Dynasty.

– Hollyleaf–

The many paintings upon the wall watched the two ebon-haired aristocrats walked past. Hollyleaf's brow was furrowed in concentration, as if she was mulling over a problem she could not understand. In reality, she was deciding whether or not to ignore Breezepelt. Propiety commanded commanded she speak to the other noble, despite his obvious arrogance. Her pride told her offer him silence and a cold shoulder instead.

"I do expect an apology, I hopw you know. You insulted me with your petty name calling," she began, not even looking back at him once.

"It is not my fault, Lady Hollyleaf, that you are such a simple dresser. You lack taste," the Clonmel aristocrat replied haughtily, evidently in no mood to give what was rightfully hers.

"I thank you for the insult, lord Breezepelt," she muttered.

"You are very welcome, Lady Hollyleaf," the Clonmel aristocrat said in a rather sarcastic tone. It was settled. Hollyleaf had a deep loathing this aristocrat. His arrogance was sickening, and one day, she would throw propiety out the door and strangle his pride. That, was a promise.

†・†

– Hollyleaf –

In the days following thier "eventful" reunion, Hollyleaf saw to it that she and Breezepelt became rather estranged. The young aristocrat Mousewhisker had arrived two days after the picnic, and had somehow come across a malady in his left eye was temporally blinded thus rendering him useless in the activities that Foxleap, Breezepelt, Harespring, and Owlclaw took part off. Hollyleaf felt pity for the young man and opted to stay behind from the proposed outings to read to Mousewhisker and keep him occupied. She sang of him in the courtyard outside the stables. He would pronounce her voice to be mellisonant. However, she cared not for his praise as she cared only for the looks bestowed upon her by Fallenleaves.

. The three often spent many a day tramping through the Sweven woods, Mousewhisker supported between Hollyleaf and Fallenleaves. They would joke and tell ridiculous stories to lift Mousewhisker's spirits. And by the end of the day, they had more stories at dinner then the others. Ivytail became so intrigued by these tales of adventure that the sickly aristocrat soon joined thier jolly party, and three became four.

One afternoon in the next week, the four were once again in the Sweven woods. Mousewhisker and Hollyleaf were reclining in a small dell, chatting about things we are not privy to in this passage. Fallenleaves had taken Ivytail over the rise to pick some flowers so that she could make crowns from them all. Mousewhisker, feeling that this was his chance, spoke.

"Hollyleaf, you are a dear thing to take such good care of me. I do appreciate it, and I know my sister Hazeltail would too," he mused thoughtfully aloud, his eyes closed, his features fully relaxed.

Hollyleaf glanced up fondly, and having quitted her humming, smiled. "Mousewhisker, I do only as anyone else would do for me."

Mousewhisker raised himself upon his elbows, craning his neck to look at her. "You'd make a good wife yet. Why don't you marry me? We make a good team, do we not?"

Hollyleaf sighed, glancing down at her slender hands, the hands that had just been encircled in those of Fallenleaves. If everybody knew, they wouldn't ask, she thought to herself, glancing wistfully over the small fern-ridded rise. Mousewhisker said something before she could open her mouth.

"But you love another." It was a murmur, almost inaudible, but Hollyleaf heard it clearly. And she nodded.

Mousewhisker watched her with his one good eye. "I'll be here when he breaks your heart."

"But he would never dream of doing such a thing," Hollyleaf retorted hotly, thinking of Fallenleaves' tender words and soft eyes.

"But he will."

No more was said on that subject, as Breezepelt and Owlclaw joined them, Breezepelt seating himself beside Hollyleaf with an air that could put off even Blossomfall. And Blossomfall was the queen of airs. Owlclaw was forced to stand watch by a tree, which he ended up widdling with a pocket knife.

Against Hollyleaf's better judgement, she felt herself relaxing in Breezepelt's presence, as if it was familiar. Mousewhisker soon engaged Owlclaw in a battle of wits, one which Owlclaw refused to lose, seeing as Hollyleaf was present.

The ebon-haired mistress couldn't have cared less, and reclined upon the blanket, looking up at the canopy. Breezepelt sat awkardly and stiffly beside her, and for a moment Hollyleaf pitied him.

"You appear to be uncomfortable. Do, recline."

Breezepelt declined the offer with such nonchalance that Hollyleaf wished she had not said a thing. Yet, the deed had been done. Once again, a strong dislike rose within her towards this young man.

"What are thoughts?" Breezepelt's musings startled Hollyleaf out of a light slumber, for she had closed her eyes and drifted off into oblivion.

"They are deep wonders, the inner workings of mankind. They change the world," Hollyleaf offered quietly. She turned to look at him. He was already staring at her with that soulful amber gaze. He simply grunted, and looked away.

And suddenly, it hit her. "Is it possible, sir, that your pride prevents you from making any real progress in life? My, what a sorry case you are." Hollyleaf had bolted upwards, and was now glaring at the Clonmel aristocrat. For a moment, Breezepelt stared at her, seeming taken aback. And then his tongue finally started functioning once more.

"You have no right to question my progress." He reiterated. "You are a young woman, aged sixteen, are you not? You are not yet married. You are sorry excuse for a noble, for a woman much less. What are you holding out for, huh Hollyleaf?" he snared into her face, his amber eyes seemingly peering into the depths of her soul. It was Hollyleaf's time to be taken aback.

"Leave her alone!" Mousewhisker growled, sitting up beside Hollyleaf, his stance protective. Hollyleaf was still stunned into silence.

"And what will you do, One-eye?" Breezepelt scowled disdainfully, turning his murderous gaze to the injured man. Mousewhisker shrunk visibly. Owlclaw just watched. Satisfied, Breezepelt went on.

"You see, love is an illusion, a guise for the evil of the world for those who do not have the guts.. no, courage to face the world and take it for what it is. How is it that one can love another human? That is truly a marvel to me, for all humans are monsters."

"Or perhaps your view is simply a mirror, Breezepelt," Hollyleaf replied with such an icy tone, Owlclaw shivered.

"Perhaps the monsters that you see within your fellow humans, are the ones living inside of you." Hollyleaf stood abruptly, glaring down at the young man with a flinty gaze.

"Watch the plank in you eyes first, my lord." she hissed, and with that statment, the fuming young mistress left a dumbfounded Breezepelt with Mousewhisker. Joining Fallenleaves and Ivytail, she proceeded to walk briskly towards Sweven manor. Over her shoulder, she asked Owlclaw to return the blanket to the mansion when they were finished.

†・†

– Breezepelt –

It was that time of day once more, the time for dinner at the Sweven manor. Firestar sat at the head of the table, Sandstorm seated regally at the bottom, looking stunning in a dark blue. Lionblaze sat to Firestar's right, and Jayfeather to his left. Beside the brothers were their respective wives, and others were seated randomly. Others, except for Hollyleaf. She been had placed next to Sandstorm, across from Heathertail. And Heathertail sat beside Breezepelt.

He had the perfect vantage point; he would observe her, observe her reaction towards him. The ebon-haired nobleman was fully aware the effect to which he had affected the young mistress. It was to be warranted, as they were both beasts, kindred spirits. He now fully understood why, for all the years he had known her, something had stirred within him whenever she looked upon him, or whenever she touched him. Whenever he was in her presence, techincally.

And when she had accused him of being an animal. He couldn't deny her claims. He couldn't lie to her... He later discovered, after much soul searching, it had been because he loved her. Or was attracted to her. All these feelings were so complicated; his disliked having to deal with any matters concerning that of the heart.

His keen amber eyes were fixed upon her person for majority of the meal, descretely enough, as others conversed around him. Did they not notice her silence...her apparent disease? But of course, he would notice. He was cursed to notice every little thing about this woman, this marvel of nature.

Beneath the table, a laughing Heathertail reached for his free hand, unfortunately the one closest her. She squeezed it somewhat lovingly, not at all missing a beat in her conversation with Sandstorm. Her feigned affection towards Breezepelt did not woo nor win him. It was obvious to him that Heathertail had fallen for Lionblaze, and the golden-haired aristocrat was returning her advances, despite the fact he was married.

The entire thing was rather scandalous, really. No doubt, if Breezepelt was a manor servant, he might have even cared. But he wasn't, and he didn't give a flying beaver's dam. Thank heavens above beaver's dams could not fly. In anycase, he had more important business to attend to.

The border towns on the border of Sirocco were being disturbed. It was rumored that Siroccan bandits were to blame, however, this was not so. No crime in the Three Realms was commited without the aid of a beast, and without an Acazin, his kind had been alot bolder lately.

Breezepelt's brows furrowed in concentration as he thought. Usually, he would employ his father's aid in times and situations as delicate as these. However, to Breezepelt's inconvience, his father had gone on a short voyage to the tip of Revenant. He had departed as the escort of Leafpool, the Ambassador for the Sweven Dynasty.

Breezepelt would have to find a replacement for his backup. Yet he knew this situation required immediate attention. It could mean war, and Breezepelt had decided he would ride tonight. His eyes lifted from his plate to meet the intense chartuese gaze of Hollyleaf.

His father had been the one to introduce such practices, and Breezepelt had been taught for these situations for roughtly eleven years. He was eighteen now, definately capable to handle such matters on his own with out his father's supervision. He would die, no doubt, without combat aid. Perhaps he could solicit help from Lionblaze? No! Not in a thousand moons. Breezepelt's top lip curled in self-disgust. He would never ask Lionblaze's aid even if he was desperate. Sure the man could fight, but he hated Breezepelt and the feeling was definately mutral.

Breezepelt jolted back into the present, relazing he had been openly staring at Hollyleaf. Heathertail was watching him form the corner of her eyes, and Hollyleaf was gingerly picking at her food. He could tell she was forcing down a blush. A blush that soon spread to his cheeks as Hollyleaf excused herself from the table, glancing uncomfortably at Breezepelt as she stood.

Quickly, he and every other male at the table stood respectfully as the ebon-haired lass took her leave. Sitting down once more, Breezepelt struggled to keep his embrassing coloring to a minimum. Had he made her uneasy? Well of course he had! But did Breezepelt habor any shame or guilt? Nada. If anything, she should be apologizing to him for her tantrum.

You see, that was Breezepelt's way. He asked for nothing, and answered to no one. He was quite a popular one with the ladies, for though he might not have looks as good as those of Foxleap, his cold and rather stoic approach to life drew the woman in like good bait to fish.

He had kissed pracitcally every eligable young noblewoman in Atlas. Heathertail, he had kissed at the age of five. Sure, it was cute, but he had done it. Now that he thought of it, Hollyleaf was perhaps the only lass he hadn't gotten his lips on. See, Crowfeather had promoted the act of "sowing ones royal oats", and Breezepelt knew he must not be an only child. There was no doubt some child amoung the noble ranks that shared his father's blood. He just had to find that child.

He had often looked for all the dark-haired people at social gatherings, but it had done no good, as he always located Hollyleaf as she was almost always the target of his gaze for the rest of the evening. The liver stew in front of Breezepelt was wholly unattractive to his stomach at the moment, and soon after, he also excuse himself, wandering aimlessly into Firestar's extensive library.

He explored the many aisles and shelves full of books, which he'd probably never read in his life time. In fact, he'd probably never read at all. Breezepelt hated to read. To him, it was a waste of time, and he only ever did it as a means to an end. It was like socializing with Heathertail. Means to an end.

Rounding another corner in that collection of dust and words on paper, Breezepelt came face to face with Hollyleaf, almost hidden by the leaning tower of books in her hands. The young mistress yelped in surprise, jerking backwards and felling her books. The sound was harsh to Breezepelt, a constant thud thud in his perfectly silence world. Why were women always so loud?

Hollyleaf had stooped to pick up her dusty treasures, handling each book with a care Breezepelt definately would not have used on such a useless object. However, he to found himself bending over to carefully take up the fallen tomes. It was awkward. The silence was scathing, and Breezepelt could hear the blood pounding in his ears.

"I didn't know you read," he muttered, the books beside him growing higher in thier respective pile. Her reply was conise. "I always have." And then came the snide barb, "Unlike some apparently knowledgable folk."

Breezepelt was well aware that Hollyleaf was implying that he was "apparently knowledgable", meaning that either the knowledge he flaunted was of not standing in the world, or that he was plain stupid. Breezepelt supposed neither theory and neither were proven fact.

"Books are not the only way to gain knowledge, dearest lady," he quipped, lifting the books and starting toward the lounging area. "Your stament has proven that your horizons need to be widened."

There was blissful silence in reply to his remark as the sable-haired aristocrat place his load upon the table. Hollyleaf walked up beside him, looking decidedly thoughtful.

"Yet, books do expand horizons. You sail to places you have never seen, you fly upon the wings of imagination-"

"Yes, all good and well, but there is so much to imagination and no more. It holds no true substance," he stauntered around the table, his hands protraying his point.

"I am realist, Lady Hollyleaf. Instead of reading about something in a book, I am the kind of person who goes out and does what others write about. I bring imagination to life. So why imagine things when you can so easily live them?"

She was silent for a time, watching him with somber eyes as he paced the library floors. With every step he took, the wood beneath him gave a creak of protest as he transfered his weight from one floorboard to another.

"Yet, good sir," she began, her tone curt, "books teach you how to exprerience, and are there for the best manuals to life. Books are compilations of trial and error so that you might see the wisdom in taking the correct path that had been pointed out." She finished her statment with dark look Breezepelt-wards, selected a few readings from the piles on the tables, and promptly quitted the lbrary, leaving Breezepelt alone to think upon her words.

But think Breezepelt could not, for it was time to ride.

†・†

– Hollyleaf –

The tension. It was everywhere. Could no one else feel it? Or perhaps it was simply her own anxiety. Exhaling, the young mistress lifted her slender hand to her face. Worry was etched upon her every feature. It isn't supposed to be obvious... Glancing about at the delegates and nobles buzzing in the banquet hall, the unease that had lain dormant for majority of the evening now began to stir in the pit of her stomach. Hollyleaf was not dense. She was well aware of the rumors which were drifting about. Rumors of war. The question that plagued the minds of all present was a unifying thread.

"Are we ready for war?"

The Siroccan kingdom had long hinted at the possiblilty of war with the Middle Realm. There had been incidents on thier borders, and the Sirrocan people were blaming the acts of the rebels on the people of Atlas. The Acazin and many of the ambassadors of the Atlas Dynasties had done thier best to ease and allay the Sirrocan forces, offering Non-Agression Pacts and other documents, that if signed by both sides, peace would reign supreme. However, neither side had come forward to sign the documents. Pride was too much of a problem for both sides.

Mudclaw, former king of Sirocco, had begun peace negotiations. However, he had been assasainated before any real progress could be made between the two nations. Now, his eldest son, Scorhfur, ruled the Siroccan realm with an iron fist.

It was common knowledge, a mistress to the former king, was the real force in Sirocco. Her name was Mapleshade, and it was clear to everyone but her son that she was using her weak-willed son. Even in relation to choosing Wolfheart of Revenant, it had been Mapleshade's doing. An arranged marriage had been strategic in it's planning, so that a peace treaty could be held between Revenant and Sirocco. However, the Siroccan royalty had not counted on the Revenant princess marrying Jayfeather, noble of the Pevensy Dynasty. And because the marriage had blossomed out of love, the Revenant people were even more so happy to become allies with Atlas.

Now, the High Council had gathered the nobles of the Realm for a meeting among the delegates from the enemy kingdom. The Second Prince, one who went by the name of Starlingwing had arrived for the gathering, as the king, and First Prince Toadfoot, were currently occupied with business of the kingdom.

There was a strange rumor behind the royalty of Sirocco. Sorchfur hadn't always been the the Crown Prince. There had been another prince, older brother to Sorchfur and the other two princes. He had never been seen before by the citizens, and it was rumored that he had died at a young age. Tearbridge, the capital of Sirocco, had erected a statue in his honor.

Hollyleaf could clearly sense that something sinister going on with that family, yet her interest was piqued. As she glanced up, she saw that a dark-haired aristocrat had taken the liberty to approach the Siroccan envoy. It was Breezepelt, she noticed, and she shouldn't have been surprised. His mother, Nightcloud, was a former lady of Mapleshade's court. Not only that, Nightcloud was a second cousin to the royal family of Sirocco, by Mudclaw's side. It would only be proper for Breezepelt to greet his cousin.

But it was this aspect of Nightcloud's heritage that caused many of the Dynasty members to doubt Crowfeather's loyalty to the realm of Atlas. Breezepelt had no doubt been raised with full awareness of this fact, and had become rather bitter to those outside of his Dynasty.

It had caused a rather large social rift between the the young noble and those of his peers in rank and standing. Or perhaps it was his hostile personailty and his damn pride. Personally, Hollyleaf wished she had never spoken to the arrogant young man. She had often seen Lionblaze and Breezepelt engage in heated verbal and swording spars. But that was something young nobles did, no?

"Ah, there you are, dearest." The shrill voice broke the young mistress from her thoughts. It could only belong to one person. Blossomfall. She closed her eyes. Patience was needed to deal with the Aisling noblewoman. Hollyleaf had none of that at the moment. It would soon be time to dance, and Hollyleaf's many suitors (many of whom were watching her this very moment) would ask to dance with her. And it was her unfortunate duty to accept every time.

"Mmm?" Hollyleaf replied rather disinterestedly as Blossomfall took the vacant seat on the couch beside her. Her siblings, Brairlight and Bumblestripe were across the Grand Hall conversing with Rainwhisker, Foxleap, and Harespring.

"Have you seen that dashing young man in the Siroccan envoy?" Blossomfall gushed, her blue eyes sparkling as she craned her neck to catch a glimpse of the forgieners once more.

"The prince?" Hollyleaf murmered, her gaze landing upon no one in paticular as she scanned the ballroom.

"No, silly!" Blossomfall cooed, giggling excitedly as she took Hollyleaf's hand. Mousewhisker had just arrived, his sister Hazeltail by his side, and was also scanning the room. Probably for her. Hollyleaf and Mousewhisker were very good friends, seeing as she had nursed him back to health that winter when he had come to Pevensy with a terrible case of pnuemonia. Ever since, he had become a good friend to Hollyleaf, and she loved him like a brother.

She was about to excuse herself to go and speak with him, when Icecloud approached him first, leading him over to where Ivytail, Poppyfrost, and Berrynose were already chatting.

Blossomfall's voice brought the Pevensy noblewoman back to reality. "He is the one with the black and white hair. Just look at that lean body!" Hollyleaf rolled her eyes in exasperation, watching out of tedium as her grandmother Sandstorm crossed the expanse of the room to speak with her brother and sister, Ferncloud and Ashfur.

Finally, the chance came for Hollyleaf to excuse herself when the delagates from the Nyland Dynasty arrived. Willowshine emerged from the large oaken doors, and Hollyleaf murmured a hurried, "Excuse me," to Blossomfall. She got to her feet, ignoring the pinching of the heels she wore, and manuevered her way through the clusters of people and to the side of her best friend.

"Willowshine!" she called to the Nyland ambassador. Her friend's blue eyes lit up with warmth when she say Hollyleaf, and the two embraced one another, glad to be in one another's company once more.

"You are looking well, darling," Willowshine smiled, looking her friend up and down.

"Yet I cannot even compare to your beauty," Hollyleaf sighed wistfully, a sparkle in her eyes.

"Tut tut dear. Don't start spouting nonsense on me," Willowshine laughed lightheartedly, looping her arm through Hollyleaf's and leading her into the midst of the gathering.

†・†

– Hollyleaf –

It was the day following the ball, and the Lesser Hall was in an uproar. Nobles were openly throwing hostile glares at one another. Some where standing in outrage, while other were sitting quietly, a sullen expression upon thier faces. Hollyleaf could hear some of the arguement from where she was seated.

"I strongly disagree with–"

"I won't have it. That policy was taken off the books for a reason, Goosefeather."

"But if were to use spies and assasains, the war would already be half-way won!" Goosefeather urged vehemently.

"Who says there will even a war?" Birchfall argued, his arms folding over his broad chest in defiance.

"Silence!" The shout echoed throughout the hall, silencing the murmers and arguments. Thornclaw of the Aisling Dynasty was the one who had made the order, and everyone had obeyed the golden haired warrior. Not because he was louder than them all, but because Thornclaw wasn't one to shout. Despite being general of the Atlas core, he was a gentle soul with a soft voice. Now he looked absolutely feirce, just short of murderous with his eyes closed, his jaw tight. When his eyes flashed open, Hollyleaf knew the worst had come.

"Oh, there will be a war, folks." His tone was low, his voise raspy as he spoke, standing at the head of the long table.

"How can you be so sure?" Birchfall of the Mendebras Dynasty inquired hotly, his arms still folded. He met Thornclaw's gaze with defiance. There was a sickly silence which seemed to go one forever. No one spoke.

"Because they've got Leafpool and Crowfeather, damn it! They've taken them hostage!" Thornclaw exploded, slumping into his shair, defeated.

"What?" Breezepelt growled, standing abruptly, the wooden chair falling backwards from the impact of his calves against the rim. It clattered, a shrill, empty sound, breaking the dumbfounded silence.

Choas ensued. Breezepelt and Firestar were yelling at Thornclaw, wondering when and how this had happened, if he had trained the troops sufficently. Sandstorm was weeping, and Graystripe and Oakheart were discussing strategies of how best to go forward. Birchfall and Goosefeather had continued thier argument, and her father was arguing with Dustpelt over the failure of the peace mission which Crowfeather and Leafpool had embarked upon.

Hollyleaf just sat there, numb to her environs. How? How had her aunt been taken? Hadn't precautions been made? Thornclaw had said there were soliders... it had been an enovy. And how had Starlingwing come to Atlas knowing that he had just kidnapped two of the most influential nobles in the Realm? Where was that disgusting piece of filth anyway? She hadn't seen him leave last night...

Slowly, she stood, her emerald eyes blazing with cold fury. Her voice was dark as she inquired, "Where is Starlingwing?" No one answered her question.

"WHERE IS STARLINGWING?" she yelled, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Those around her turned to stare at the young mistress. Her auntie Leafpool...

"When I grow up, I wanna be jus' like Aunnie Weafpool!" the young raven-haired child exclaimed, tramping about the gardens behind her aunt. The woman smiled softly down at her niece, her amber eyes like pools of liquid fire. Her light brown hair shone a burnish golden hue in the rays of the late summer sun, and her features were alight with a certain grace that was Leafpool, and Leafpool's alone.

"Perhaps, darling," her aunt said, her voice tender as she caressed her niece's head with a maternal hand. "It is rather lonely, I'll tell you now."

Hollyleaf gazed up at the woman she had come to love and respect, her green eyes wide. "Lonely?" Her four year-old brain could not fully grasp the meaning of the Sweven ambassador's words, yet by the wistful look in her aunt's eyes, she precieved that whatever "lonely", might mean, it was not to be desired.

"It's okay, Aunnie Weafpool. 'Ollyweaf is here," she comforted, sliping her tiny hand into the palm of the auburn haired woman. Leafpool's slender fingers encircled Hollyleaf's, giving the little girl's hand a warm squeeze. In a moment, the young girl was on Leafpool's hip, leaning her head upon her aunt's shoulder as they strolled through the the mansion's gardens. "I love you, Hollyleaf..."

The hand upon her shoulder jolted Hollyleaf from her memories. Her father stood behind her, his amber eyes mirroring the concern he felt for her.

Reedwhisker piped up, "He was seen leaving early this morning, travelling West, towards his country."

Hollyleaf gritted her teeth, her eyes hardening. "How could he have stayed here, in this house, knowing that his brother had taken our Ambassador?" she questioned, shrugging off Bramblestar's large hand.

"Hunt him down." She was glaring at Thornclaw now, speaking directly to him. Her silent challenge hung in the tension-heavy air. After a few moments of silence, Hollyeaf realized she was being stared at. Every noble in the room had thier eyes trained upon her being, and she felt as if they were staring into her very soul. The amber gaze of Breezepelt caught her own, an unreadable emotion fluttering through his otherwise steady gaze.

It was not Thornclaw, who raised himself to his feet to accept her challenge, but instead her cousin, Owlclaw. The dark-haired young man bowed to her from his seat across the table. However, it was not the challenge he was accepting, but rather a precaution he was stating.

"Dearest cousin, I know of your grief. However, it is wisest now to prepare for war, rather than start it in our own backyards. Seeing that a large cavalry had been sent with Leafpool and Crowfeather, and assuming they are dead, is it not wiser to recruit new members for the Core?" Finishing, Owlclaw sat down, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Hollyleaf glowered at Owlclaw, her expression matching one of the sullen nobles seated about the long table.

Onestar stood reluctantly, his eyes looking everywhere else but at Firestar. "I believe Owlclaw is correct. I believe it is the best plan of action."

"But what will we do about the hostages? Will we pay the ransoms?" Firestar countered, his eyes blazing with grief and anger.

"You know, if we had an Acazin, she could tell us what to do." Brackenfur mumbled to his wife.

"Let's not go there," Mistyfoot scowled, eyeing the fellow aristocrat.

Suddenly, a wave of fatiuge swpet over the ebon-haired mistress; all she wanted to do was get out of this place. Looking rather pale, Hollyleaf excused herself from the aparently futile gathering. Arguing was th only thing that the Coucil was agreeing on. She would rather be spending her time doing something less stressful, something that would fix the arisen problem.

As she stepped through the large doors of the chamber and into the hall, the first person she laid eyes upon was Fallenleaves. He approached her rather gingerly, his eyes lowered. She walked down the hall, toward the library. Once they were behind closed doors, Hollyleaf faced him, her green eyes full of defiance.

"I'll do it," Hollyleaf told him bluntly.

"Pardon?" Fallenleaves inquired, his soft voice lined with confusion, his eyes shimemring with hope.

"I'll marry you."


	4. A Coming Ruin

**|a coming ruin|**

– Hollyleaf –

What was war? A conflict born from the irony of the human race. The strife that comes into being when humans fight for peace. The young mistress had never understood the mystery of mankind's logic. It tore life from those who participated. It wasted innocence and happiness on the battlefield. Each solider was someone's son. And when that solider died, a piece of his mother's heart would be ripped away from her.

Atlas had declared war upon Sirocco. Officially, the decree stated, that due to the prior hostile actions of the kingdom of Sirocco against the realm of Atlas, the latter was declaring war upon the kingdom, as it had no other options, for the Siroccans would not form a peace treaty with them. The Siroccan forces had been on a war path from the very day Scorchfur had become king.

The green-eyed woman glanced to her right. The late summer winds dance through the orchard trees about her, the warmth of the setting sun bathing the premise in a golden light. It was this war which was taking him away from her. Taking her lover, her best friend. She had still not come to terms with the fact that he had signed up to serve in the core.

Her brows furrowed in thought of the matter. He was already serving, was he not? He was a stableman of the Sweven household, for Christ's sake.

Father, forgive me for taking your name in vain, the young mistress prayed. There were times when it was difficult to maintain her Christianity, especially when perplexing matters such as this was concerned.

The Sweven Dynasty's ambassador, Leafpool de Sweven, still had not yet been returned. Crowfeather had also been taken hostage, and the High Council seemed more interested in the coming war than in the life of their fellow nobles.

The Council was composed of the head nobles of each Dynasty and their respective ambassador. Thornclaw de Aisling was also allowed in the meetings, as he was the general of the AtlasCore. The members of the Council were all wise and well deserving of their acceptance into this elite group, but the nonchalance with which they were handling the situation at hand was disconcerting to Hollyleaf.

The young mistress was saved from this angering train of thought by the slender hands of her lover upon her narrow shoulders.

"Hollyleaf." Her name was a breath, a whisper of something sacred upon his lips. Relishing the feeling of his skin against hers, the young mistress flipped her braid of hair over her shoulder, relaxing at his touch.

Gently, the young man began to work his magic upon her, massaging her bare, stiff shoulders. Almost straightway, Hollyleaf could feel the stress and tension that had been trapped in her muscles, melting away beneath his touch. She relished this comfortable silence that hung in the air around them. She didn't want this to end. Not ever.

"Don't leave," she whispered, her words barely audible, even to herself. But he heard them. He withdrew his hands silently, coming around to seat himself on the blanket beside her. Thier horses knickered nearby, tails swishing in blissful content as they partook of the fallen apples.

Fallenleaves took her hand in his, absent-mindedly thumbing the silver ring which crowned her ring finger. His wing. Hollyleaf smiled affectionately at the serious young man. She knew it had cost him a small fortune to pay for, and would have had no qualms aiding in the payment. However, in his pride, Fallenleaves had purchased the ring upon his own with the pension he reached from working as a servant on the grounds.

"Listen, Hollyleaf," Fallenleaves began. He seemed rather reluctant in his speech, his eyes filled with sad determination. "I am aware that none of the ministers in all of Atlas will marry us due to the fact that I am a peasant, and you are a noblewoman." He paused, looking into her eyes. "Perhaps this war is an oppertunity for me. For me to go to war and return a hero, just like your grandfather did."

"But-" she started, her protest dying on her lips as he silenced her with a look.

"Hear me out." She simply nodded, dropping her eyes to their hands. "If I come back from this war as a hero, perhaps Bramblestar will allow me to marry you, officially." Hollyleaf still wasn't sold on this plan of his. Fallenleaves was no doubt set in his way, regardless of her opinion. Still, she must say her piece.

"And if you die?" The words were choked, accompanied by the silent thought, And if you never return to me? This point silenced her lover, for yes, it was very possible he might pass away. She couldn't always be there; she might not be there when his last moment on Earth had come.

"As long as you wear this ring, love," he smiled, holding her hand to the retreating sunlight so that it shimmered, "you will be my wife, and you will have my heart... whether we marry or not."

Against her will, tears sprung into her eyes, their unshed bodies causing her eyes to shimmer. How had this happened? Over time, she had slowly given pieces of her heart to him. Fallenleaves had come to mean so much to her, and she didn't want to lose him now.

"I love you, Fallenleaves," Hollyleaf sniffed, attempting to hold back the warm tears which threatened to spill over the brim of her eyelids any moment now.

He lay his tawny head upon her clothed lap, allowing her to tenderly caress his head. She hadn't told him yet, that she was a beast. She figured that hadn't need to be aware of her true form, and what he didn't know wouldn't kill him. He could keep a watchful distance from afar when they were in public; wasn't that all he wanted? To simply be near her? Because that was what she wanted. But she felt that she needed him to know... to accept her for whom she truly was.

The had relinquished the skies to the power of darkness now, its last strands of light disappearing to the west. Stars glittered down at the couple, and the crickets and bullfrogs began to warm up for their nightly serenades.

"Fallenleaves..." she began, her lips refusing to move as her mind battled against her. He eased himself up onto his elbows, his eyes fixed upon her face. She had gotten his attention. How should she proceed?

"I need you to know who I truly am," she finished, cursing herself in her head. What kind of ridiculous line is that?

"Who you truly are?" he echoed, his confusion mirrored in the lines that rippled across his otherwise smooth forehead. Hollyleaf sighed, dropping her eyes from his as she stood. "Yes. Whatever comes of this, and if you wish to withdraw your affection from me and turn upon a maiden more worthy and normal..."

"Hollyleaf, why ever would I do that? I will always love you for who you are. I could never stop loving you," Fallenleaves countered. The expression upon his face quickly switched from one of confusion to embarrassment and awkward discomfort as she began to undress right in front of him. Out of decency, the servant turned his head away as the ebon-haired mistress proceeded in removing her garments.

This needs to be done, Hollyleaf thought, stepping out of the dress pooled at her feet.

She stood there now, in the nude, the moon bathing her skin in its ghastly light, painting her as a rather sidereal creation. And in a moment, she was. In the place of the young noblewoman stood a sleek large feline, its fur the blackest of black. Gingerly, the creature padded up to the human, nosing his head.

Fallenleaves jumped back before even registering what was before him. He only saw a jaguar, muscles rippling beneath that raven coat. Hollyleaf watched as he looked around frantically, as if searching for her. How could she make him understand?

It's me, Hollyleaf, she thought, willing him to look at her. A huge wave of fear washed over her; it was not hers, for it was eminating from her lover.

"Fallenleaves, you have no need to fear me! It's Hollyleaf!" she exclaimed, her exasparation growing. He quaked under her green gaze as her attempts to communicate only resulted in growling.

Gingerly, she approached him, her nostrils taking in his intoxicating essence. His hair was disheveled and the moon light upon his face cast shadows upon his jawline, eyes, and cheek bones. He's so perfect, she thought, a purr rumbling in her throat.

She held his gaze, her eyes softening as she neared him. Beast and human stood only inches apart now; their eyes wavered not from the face of the other. The fear in Fallenleaves' eyes wavered as he stretched his hand forth to touch her head. He pulled his hand back a little, as if he was fighting with himself. Hollyleaf tilted her head, rather pleased by his fascination with her. For the sake of her waning patience, she closed the gap between her forehead and the palm of his hand.

As soon as she did so, a spark flew down her spark. Hollyleaf recoiled, her eyes large. She glanced up at Fallenleaves, a question in her eyes. Had he felt it also? Do you know it's me? she wondered, her tail dropping until it dragged on the ground. She sat down expectantly, wrapping her tail smartly about her paws, her gaze trained upon him.

"H-Hollyleaf?" Fallenleaves whispered, leaning forward in shock. Relief flooded through Hollyleaf as she dipped her head. Getting to her large black paws, she pranced around Fallenleaves playfully, her mood having lightened immensely. "Is this who you truly are?" he inquired, an emotion glinting in his eyes which Hollyleaf wasn't acquainted with.

She rushed him, bowling him over with her body weight. Her instincts screamed at her to hold him down before he escaped, to rip him apart with her claws. The weaker, more human side of her refused this longing, and the servant remained alive.

Hollyleaf fell, exhausted, beside him. Her augustly head lay upon on of his side, her body conforming to fit his shape. And under the stars of the dark night skies, the two fell asleep, blissfully oblivious to the turmoil which was being caused but the disappearance of the most beloved young mistress. Hollyleaf de Sweven.

†・†

– Breezepelt –

The large grandfather clock rung twelve noon in the hall. The chimes echoed through the empty halls of the Sweven Manor, through the well-furnished rooms along the bottom story, and faintly resounded through the second and third stories, reaching the ears of the amber-eyed Clonmel aristocrat. He sat unmoving in his guest quarters, staring at the dying embers of a fire which had been lit earlier that morning.

She had been missing for perhaps half a day now. The honored lady Hollyleaf had gone missing from the Sweven estate early noon yesterday had not yet return to her grandfather's manor. Both the Pevensy and Sweven Dynasties were frantically scouring the countryside of the Sweven province; they were all most certain Starlingwing was behind it.

Breezepelt didn't believe it for a moment. Starlingwing had left the Atlas realm rather discreetly – Breezepelt had been the one to escort the Siroccan prince and his envoy to the border. Despite the fact they were second cousins, he didn't trust Starlingwing. For Breezepelt, loyalty was stronger than blood.

A creaking of the floorboards in the hallway summoned the blueblood from his thoughts. Hmm? Perhaps a servant? However, his curiousity got the best of him and the young man stood slowly and deliberately, stretching as he did so. Flashing the shaggy black hair from his eyes, Breezepelt crossed the stretch of his spacious room in a few strides.

As silently as possible, he eased the door open, sticking his head out enough to scan the hallway. His ocher eyes caught sight of a woman's retreating back, black curls falling about her shoulders and back like a cloak of raven. She was a simple, rather tattered green dress, the hem gathered in her hands as she tip-toed barefoot through the hall.

As the woman turned to glance back at desolate hallway, he saw the green eyes and sharp features of Hollyleaf. Breezepelt withdrew further into his room, hoping he was not seen. She whipped around, her cheeks flushed, and quickly retreated into a room which must have been her own.

Breezepelt's brows furrowed. So she had sneaked out of the manor? And if she had, for what reason had she done it? In all truth, Breezepelt had always thought of Hollyleaf as the goody-two shoes other the Pevensy family, always thinking of politics before she acted, more bound by duty than considerate in her actions. She was known for her loyalty to her Dynasty, and to Atlas, and also admired for her wit and quick thinking.

That had been the only reason why she had spoken up in the meeting of the Council and none of the older members had taken her outburst as disrespectful, for disrespectful, she was not. She was the best of both worlds, if one truly thought of it. Brackenfur had served as her mentor in the realm of politics and had done well in passing on to her his knowledge. Leafpool had taught her the ways of society, and now, Hollyleaf practiced it perfectly, speaking with eloquence and acting with graceful poise. Breezepelt had also heard that the lady was skilled in swordsmanship... or so that was what Lionblaze boasted of his sister. He had yet to see her in action.

Hollyleaf had never intrigued him as much as she did now, and the young man could not stop his curiosity from growing. Who was this girl really? Thinking these things, Breezepelt ventured from his room and into the now quiet hallway. Should he report her appearance? It would stop Firestar and Bramblestar from going out their way any longer.

But perhaps he should speak to Hollyleaf before, you know, to alert her of what had elapsed during her short absence. Breezepelt turned upon the heel of his boot, tracing the steps of the young mistress to the door which she had recently disappeared behind. He stood before the door for a moment or two, trying to decide if he should knock two or three times. Why did it matter anyway?

Hurriedly, the noble lifted his gloved hand and rapped on the door twice, counseling himself not to overthink things. She surely delayed in opening the door for him, and he grew rather impatient with her dallying. It seemed another eternity had passed by the time she opened the door and peeked out, a pink flush filling her cheeks as she raised her green eyes to meet his amber ones. She seemed astonished to find him at her door, and he simply stood there for a moment, allowing hhis presence to sink into her mind... or because he found her breathtakingly beautiful.

Awkwardly, the Clonmel aristocrat cleared his throat, breaking the spell and the silence. Two birds with one stone; not bad.

"Afternoon, Princess," Breezepelt drawled uncharacteristically, his eyes narrowing. His entire body language portrayed, "I know your little secret." He could tell it irritated her by the way her jaw tightened, and her stance switched into defensive.

"Good afternoon, Lord Breezepelt," she managed, gaining use of her tounge once more. "How may I help you?" He didn't like the tone in which she had posed the question, neither did he appreciate the look that accompanied it. He glowered at her, his gaze without any warmth that amber might possibly hold. She didn't flinch. He had silently gave her the choice to fight or flee. Flee she did not.

"Your absence has caused much unrest among the Dynasties, mi'lady," he began, leaning in the doorway before she could slam to do in his face. "All of Atlas has been searching for you." So what if he had magnified the situation? Breezepelt considered it worth it when he witnessed the widening of her eyes.

"All of Atlas?" Her voice had seemingly shrunk into a mere squeak.

Breezepelt could barely smother his chuckle of pure glee at the terrified expression which donned her features. "Aye. Firestar and Bramblestar supposed you were taken by the Siroccans. They've sent out the first wave of troops today." Now that part of the information was true. Every Dynasty had gathered some soldiers together and sent them to the frontlines.

Villagers and Peasants were being trained to join the ranks, and some of the Atlas nobles had gone to lead in the battle. All of this had occurred during her disappearance.

"I wouldn't have guessed that you, of all persons, could be so selfish. Did you not think your little escapade would affect those around you?" he inquired, his tone biting.

She recoiled as if she had received a physical blow, her face blanching. Breezepelt clucked his tounge, both in satisfaction and feigned disappointment. "Anyways, good day, young mistress." With that, the young lord bowed and went upon his way, leaving a guilt-ridded Hollyleaf behind him. His job here was finished.

†・†

– Hollyleaf –

It was with much trepidation that she descended to the first floor of her grandfather's mansion. She had heard the voices even before she had seen the faces of the men who argued in the foyer. Her little conversation with Breezepelt had left her an emotional wreck; her need to be with Fallenleaves had blinded her to the urgent matter which concerned the nation.

Nervously, she fingered the ring which symbolized the eternal love Fallenleaves had for her. The two had married themselves early that morning, reciting the vows and devoting themselves to each other "for better or for worse". It had been both beautiful and relieving for Hollyleaf. She had been so afraid that Fallenleaves would stop loving her because she was a disgusting animal, and a dual wielder.

But he hadn't. He had understood why she couldn't take a husband, why she had been so afraid to love him. He had promised to protect her however he could, to show her as much love and affection as she needed and more. Thier soul would be bound together for eternity, he said, forever in love. And she had no doubts in his words.

These thoughts calmed the young mistress significantly, her eyes closing in tranquility as she descended the familiar stairs of her grandfather's estate. She reached the bottom of the flight without collapsing, as steady hand on the railing. The ebon-haired aristocrat opened her eyes, her orbs like two shining pools of green.

Those present were the following: Harespring, Mousewhisker, Ivytail, Owlclaw, Heathertail, and her brother, Jayfeather. They had still not noticed her arrival, and continued to speak heatedly upon a seemingly controversial topic among themselves.

"Good afternoon," Hollyleaf greeted from her post at the foot of the stairwell. There was no response. Did they not hear me? I do wonder, some might be deaf, or are they dumb? she thought crossly to herself, allowing herself a moment of weakness and scowling outright, crossing her arms over her chest. Had she no presence? Then, pray tell, what had all Brackenfur's instruction been for if it was not effective?

It was as Hollyeaf was thinking this, that the words of the blissfully oblivious group reached her ears. Their talk was about her, of course. It was not the fact that she was missing. Apparently Breezepelt had gone ahead and informed everyone of her appearance. Rather, their talk was of marriage. It was so unsettling that the young mistress could not suppress the urge to stomp away. And stomp away she did.

Negotiations had been going on, talk of marriage for a certain young lady of the Pevensy. Not Dawnpelt of course, for she was all ready betrothed to Smokefoot of the Nyland Dynasty. No, rather, it was of a young sable-haired beauty, with the greenest eyes one had ever seen. Whomever was the lucky young man to receive her hand in marriage would be at a great advantage due to her standing in society and her rank.

Not only that, she had connections to the two most powerful Dynasties in the realm: Pevensy and Sweven. And that is not even mentioning the Dynasties she was close to. Graystripe and Bluestar took to the young mistress, and Brackenfur had been her mentor for a time. Whomever could get her...

The cool breeze of later summer soothed the burning of her flushed skin. There were so many things being decided, as if it was all out of her hands. She may have married Fallenleaves, but she was bound to be married to a noble at this rate. Would it be better to denounce her nobility and go live a relatively peaceful life with the man of her dreams?

Or perhaps she could marry one of the nobles, and take Fallenleaves as her personal butler. Surely her grandfather would allow that as a wedding present. Shivering, Hollyleaf drew the shawl closer about her shoulders. That was, if Fallenleaves turned up alive after this bloody war.

Hollyleaf sighed, feeling completely helpless and somewhat incompetent. The young mistress found herself near the rear of the stables, somewhat entranced by the white paint shining in the mid-day sun. It was then that the entire world seemed to jerk forward, and a blindingly bright light swept over her vision.

"Woe unto the land shadowing with wings..." a voice shook the world around her, echoing through her mind, filled with foreboding. "Woe to the crown of pride, whose glorious beauty is a fading flower." What was this? A vision? A daydream? A trance?

"There is a mighty and strong one, which is as a tempest of hail and a destroying storm, as a flood of mighty waters overflowing, who control the earth with her hand." Hollyleaf opened her eyes once more, her body trembling as she looked upon her environs. She was no longer on her grandfather's grounds.

All of a sudden, there appeared before th young mistress, a woman. She was a fearful beauty to gaze upon. Her hair was of a platnium-blond hue, gracing her narrow shoulders with short curls. Her face was a cluster of sharp angles and straight lines. Her delicately arched eyebrows, to pointed nose, and thin lips were all enchanting and her forehead signified she was of noble bearing.

Her eyes were a cold, cloudy gray. They seemed heartless, having no feeling portrayed within them whatsoever. The woman possessed a supple build, long-legged with an hour-glass figure. She was garbed in a sheer lavender-hued linen robe with short sleeves. Embroidered onto the lace of the robe were beads about the arms, waist, and neck. Wrapped around her waist was a thin amethyst belt, a dagger hanging within it's sheath from a hook attached to the belt. Upon her head was a rather unique headdress, decorated with purple quartz, pearls, and a sapphire here and there.

The woman's stormy gaze had settled upon Hollyleaf, and was looking upon her with cold disdain written all over her face. The young mistress cringed under the woman's stare, feeling unworthy to be in her presence. Could on truly feel so belittled by a simple glance thier way? It so, what power was this that this woman had, to make it so?

"Hollyleaf de Pevensy." The voice was chilled, like the chill of Boreas after returning from his roamings. It sent an involuntary shiver down the spine of the ebon-haired woman. Hollyleaf could not manage to speak, and simply regarded the woman rather coolly. She was levitating above Hollyleaf, and was no doubt an Element: Air.

"I am Aria de Clonmel, the founding mother of the Clonmel Dynasty. However, I am better known as Windrunner," the woman started, introducing herself rather disinterestedly. It was at this moment that our heroine was again at a loss of words. Windrunner? Hadn't he been the founding father of Clonmel? How was he a woman? And if Aria was trurly whom she claimed she was, how was she still alive? For Wind had died long before the other three Dynasties came into being.

"Windrunner?" Hollyeaf echoed subconciously, the gears of her mind working in overdrive as she attempted to process this newly received information. The founding woman sniffed, glaring at Hollyleaf rather impatiently.

"Yes, Windrunner." She replied, hurrying along. "I was the swiftest of all among those of Atlas, skilled in running and also combat."

"Along with Tallshadow de Anudja, Riverripple de Nyland, and Thunder de Llanfair, I built up the realm of Atlas. I was a main contributor to many of the policies on the books which concern justice. Even to this day, my descendants still roam the earth in the form of Deadfoot, Crowfeather, and Breezepelt."

"You are chosen," the hoary haired woman told her, in almost silent tones. The ebon-haired noblewoman's head whipped up at those word. But the founding woman had disappeared without any further explanation as to what her words signified. Chosen. The words echoed through her mind. It weighed upon her heart as she saw that she had returned to her environs.

Opening her eyes, Hollyleaf gazed into the loving green eyes of Fallenleaves, his auburn hair falling in his eyes. His forehead was creased with lines of worry. He was holding her head in his lap, his form bent of=ver hers.

"You collapsed," he explained, looking rather relieved at the fact she was now concious and awake.

"Did I?" she inquired, sitting up slowly. The world seemed to spin and she had gotten a major headache. Feeling it wasn't worth it, she eased herself back down into his caress and closed her eyes once more.

"Is something wrong?" Fallenleaves inquired, stroking his wife's hair tenderly. Hollyleaf sighed, reaching for his hand. She hadn't intended to worry him at all.

"No, nothing. I just want you to hold me, that all. Just like this..."

Fallenleaves placed a loving kiss upon her forehead, and for that moment in time, Hollyleaf felt that all was right with the world.

†・†

– Breezepelt –

The bright red curls and cheerful voice announced her presence even before he came face to face with her. The lady Squirrelflight de Pevensy, formerly Sweven, had arrived in the late afternoon to visit her parents... and no doubt to check upon her children. She had no doubt heard of Hollyleaf's disappearance, and seeing as she hadn't been up for the High Council meeting, she had taken the fastest coach to join her husband and children at the Sweven estate.

She wore a rather simple green muslin gown, the color which matched her eyes, decorated with lace and few pearls here and there. She was currently greeting her father, and exchanging kisses with her mother. She no doubt had yet to get her hands on her immediate family. The young nobleman withdrew from the balcony, melting back into the warm halls of the Sweven manor. Light streamed in through the windows, becoming visible in their respective rays. Visibly relaxing, the Clonmel aristocrat strode down the halls, gazing upon the many tapestries and closed doors, his hands behind his back.

Personally, he had never liked Squirrelflight. She was much to loud and boisterous for his liking. Wherever she was, she was the self-proclaimed life of the party. She was always intruding into the personal space and affairs of other nobles, making jokes and making rash decisions. It was through these traits that she endeared herself to those around her. Squirrelflight was a ball of energy, a social butterfly, a wonder in combat.

Hollyleaf appeared to be the polar opposite of her mother, only inheriting those beautiful green eyes and skill in swordmanship. Otherwise, Hollyleaf more resembled her aunt Leafpool in temperment. There were other things Hollyleaf inherited form her aunt, for example, her slender hands, the shape of her nose, and the grace with which she moved.

Breezepelt rolled his eyes at himself. What was he doing? Really, observing Hollyleaf, to what end? He was neither emotionally attached to her, neither had he any political obligations towards her. She had never appeared interesting to him, for while the stoic Jayfeather and the rash and unintelligent species of brute Lionblaze both had personality, Hollyleaf did not. She had made it a habit to do whatever she was told. But now, after this morning's episode, his curiosity was helplessly piqued.

It was when he had come to this conclusion, that he realized that for some reason, he had always subconsciously observed her from afar, always keeping his distance. A queer obsession? No. But there was something different about her... he could feel it... and he was draw to it. However, this was playing with fire. Breezepelt was to be betrothed to Heathertail (who was evidently head-over-heels for Lionblaze), and it was his duty to always look at her and only her. He was not a flirt, neither did he talk to many women outside of his Dynasty.

He cursed inwardly as he stalked outside to the rear courtyard, his hands stuffed in his pockets. A training space was located here, hence it was nicknamed the "Sparring Court". Breezepelt ran his fingered along a gray stone column, his amber eyes bright as he gazed upon it. He had so many memories here, for Crowfeather had made it a tradtion for them to visit the Sweven house each year in the summer with his son. He had said it was for Breezepelt to befriend other nobles his age, but Breezepelt felt it was something different.

It was here that his Element had first shone forth. As young aristocrats, he and Jayfeather had been inseparable, always together, due to their similar personalities. Neither of them were really physical children, and Breezepelt would spend his days reclining beside Jayfeather as he read. It was here that Breezepelt learned much of his knowledge, for Jayfeather was a scholar, an advanced mind and would read books far above his age.

The two young boys were often tormented by the likes of Lionblaze and Owlclaw, who were little devils at that age. The two played pranks on everyone, regardless of age. They would pull Hollyleaf's braids and rub mud in her hair until she cried. Breezepelt and Jayfeather would often find her sobbing and alone, and Breezepelt would watch Jayfeather take care of his sister with silent love. Then they would always escort her to Leafpool, where they knew she would be safe.

It was the day of the incident, when Jayfeather became blind in one eye. The four of them, Breezepelt, Owlclaw, Lionlaze, and Jayfeather were in the Sparring Court. The little ruffians were playing with sticks, and trying their best to get the other to the ground. Jayfeather and Breezepelt were on a pile of hay, reading the clouds, their hands entwined in each others.

Apparently Lionblaze and Owlclaw had bored of playing with the sticks, and had soon, after not being able to find the fortunate Hollyleaf, come to annoy the quiet lads. It had begun as simply as pulling the book from Jayfeather's hands. Then it had heightened to ripping the pages from the volume. That had angered Jayfeather, but yet he could do nothing. He was not as sturdy as his brother, and he was also sickly. Breezepelt was shorter than all of them, and fairly light-weight, due to his frame.

It was then, after ripping out majority of the pages, Owlclaw began to take joy in poking Jayfeather with a stick. Apparently it seemed a good idea to Lionblaze, who joined in, poking Breezepelt in the same fashion. They couldn't run; they were cornered. That was when the incident occurred. The gray-haired lad turned his face towards Owlclaw, and apparently, Owlclaw was about to poke Jayfeather's head. Instead, the stick made contact with Jayfeather's left eye.

Breezepelt still remembered the agonizingly painful scream of his comrade as blood erupted from his eye. He immediately reacted, something unlocking within him. In a moment, the air about Breezepelt became a lethal weapon. It surrounded him, whirling out in tornado fashion. Quickly, he dragged Jayfeather to his side as the air dispersed, sending powerful blasts of wind in all directions. It sent Lionblaze and Owlclaw across the courtyard, and scattered hay all over the place.

Lionblaze had landed against a wall, and the breath had been knocked out of him. Owlclaw was in the far corner of the courtyard, unconscious with a small concussion. A frightened Breezepelt had held his injured friend close, soothing Jayfeather, while looking around at what he had done. That was how the nobles had found them: Crowfeather, Leafpool, Bramblestar, and Firestar. When Bramblestar had seen Jayfeather's eye, he had snatched the child from Breezepelt's arms.

"Keep your son away from my children," he had growled to Crowfeather, glaring at Breezepelt as he said so. The small child was so frightened, he was hardly able to manage, "I didn't do it. I-it was Owlclaw!"

Firestar had been the next to speak. "It isn't right to lie, Breezepelt," he had said sternly, his eyes flashing with dismay and anger. Leafpool rushed across the courtyard to check upon the other two boys, seemingly more worried about Jayfeather than the rest. Owlclaw remained unconscious when she tried to call to him, and Firestar appeared horrified that his charge was not responding. It was then that he turned on Breezepelt, stalking towards him.

"No!" Breezepelt remembered screaming. And that was when it happened again. He sent everyone flying, even Bramblestar. Crowfeather had just stared at him, understanding donning that face so similar to his. Breezepelt had began to sob.

"They hurt Jayfeather... and I dun know what 'appened. I never meant to hur' them," he cried, feeling dreadful. It was then that he heard Leafpool's tender voice.

"It's alright Breezepelt, I know." She embraced him, leaving the men to return the other children to the mansion. They stayed that way until dinnertime, when Breezepelt went up to his room and did not emerge until the end of the trip.

During that duration, Leafpool was the only one to visit, occasionally sneaking in the recovering Jayfeather, who bore an eye patch. Otherwise, everyone else shunned him. And soon, Bramblestar found out about the visits and forbade his sister-in-law to bring his son into the room of the foresaken Breezepelt. However, Leafpool disregarded him, bringing either Jayfeather, Hollyleaf, or Ivytail each time she visited. Bramblestar had been furious when he had found out, and apparently words had been exchanged. Leafpool hadn't spoken to him since.

"Yah!" The heated shout brought the aristocrat from his memories. It seemed someone was practicing. Curious, Breezepelt rounded the corner, sticking to the walls and shadows. It was a certain sable-haired aristocrat, with emerald green eyes, garbed in a men's breeches (no doubt Jayfeather's), and a linen shirt which hung loosely upon her slender, feminine frame. She held in her hand a sword which was a flame. No doubt this was from her own Element, something Breezepelt had not seen before.

Concentrating, Hollyleaf lunged forwards, sparring with an invisible opponent. Her form and stance were very good, perfect almost, he observed. Her facial expression remained calm rather than fierce, and her dark hair flowed over her shoulders as would a black cloak. Breezepelt was mesmerized by her fluidity in motion, by her unassuming beauty. She's grown to be quiet a catch, Breezepelt smirked to himself, his amber eyes twinkling in faint amusement.

"Practicing, I see?" he called to her, chuckling to himself as she tripped upon her own feet at the sound of his voice. She slowly picked herself up from the ground, sending Breezepelt a dark look as he crossed the distance between them, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Did I frighten you, you mistress?" he remarked snidely, doing his best to gain a reaction from this woman. Hollyleaf simply dismissed his earlier remark with, "Duel me."

Breezepelt was taken a back for a moment. Him? Duel a lady? That was unconvetional... right? But the smirk upon his features told he he agreed. After all, she was the one who had asked for it. Quickly, he removed his overcoat and linen shirt to reveal a rippling abdomen and toned biceps. Flipping the hair from his eyes, the Clonmel aristocrat aquired a sword. In no time at all, she had advanced upon him, her green eyes become dark with an emotion he could not read. He easily blocked her blow. "A little eager, are we?" he quipped, his eyes narrowing as she regrouped. It was his chance to strike.

The Clonmel aristocrat drove himself forward, pulling his arms to his side as he leapt up into the air, landing upon his feet behind her. She whipped around before he could complete his attack, knocking his sword from his hand. She's quick, he thought to himself, admiring her reflexes. But yet, so was he. In no time, he was across the courtyard, his sword once again in his hand.

"I won't let you win." was her cutting reply. How cruel. I'm hurt, truly I am, he thought to himself, smirking rather than pouting.

"And what makes you think that, Hollyleaf?" They were face to face now, their swords crossed. It was all about strength now. If he could only overpower her. He could, yes he knew, but he didn't want to risk hurting her physically.

"Because unlike you, I play fair," she hissed, winking at him as her sword erupted in flames.

He jumped back, his eyes wide. He could swear she had singed his locks. He glared, reaching up to feel one. He would have to see the damage later when he returned to his room.

"Lucky' I don't even have to fight you in combat," he spat, sending a powerful blast of wind her way and bowling her over. However, she was up in no time, levitating above him.

His jaw dropped open, his amber eyes dilating with shock. She was an Element:Air? But wasn't Squirrelflight and Bramblestar both Element:Fire? Well, duel wielders were not unheard of. Of course there was Graystripe's children, Feathertail (deceased), and Stormfur, and one couldn't forget Stonefur and Mistystar, children of Bluestar of Llainfair. Things were always complicated that way though, for Mistystar remained in the Nyland Dynasty with her father, and Stonefur remained with his mother.

However, wasn't the Sweven and Pevensy bloodline untainted? There was often intermarriage between the two Dynasties, for instance, young Dovewing was betrothed to Tigerheart of Pevensy. Both were Element:Fire, and no doubt, that was what their children would inherit.

Breezepelt had no more time to think about it before he was on his back, staring up at Hollyleaf who straddled him.

"Pinned ya," she grinned, her eyes twinkling knowingly. Apparently, this Element:Air was her trump card... which was why she was so good in combat. She used it so subtly that no one recognized it belonged to her. For instance when she had lunged at him so swiftly... that was her Element:Air. The dazed noble watched as Hollyleaf dismounted and stood, brushing of her clothing.

Looking down at him, she said, "I trust you will not spread this to anyone... for if you announce that I am a duel wielder... you will also have to admit that you lost to a woman." She chuckled here, sliding her sword back into its sheath. "And that wouldn't be good for your ego and reputation, now would it?"

* * *

**A/N:** I want to thank Rebelgirl for reviewing. It's your encouraging words and the fact that you read this story that keeps me writing. I hope that in the future, that I gain more loyal reviewers like yourself.

Also, I hope you all enjoy the little flashback of Breezepelt's. I hope it explains alittle as to why he is so bitter. Also, who do you ship? Fallen/Holly of Breeze/Holly. I'll try to make her interact more with other males in the next chapter. Until then, read and review my dears ^.^


	5. Winds of War

A/N: Thank you for reviewing guys ^.^ I have tried to introduce a few more characters in this installment of _Gilded Cages._ Also, the Cast List at the begining of the fanfic has been updated. Please check it out, thank you. Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

|winds of war|

– Hollyleaf –  
The two were surrounded by opulence. They had been raised in opulence. But it appeared that opulence had not the power to make Cinderheart happy. It was here that the gray-haired woman came to her sister-in-law, her blue eyes watering with tears.

"Hollyleaf, I harbor the bad premenition that Lionblaze is cheating on me." The admitance of this fact took the ebon-haired woman aback for a moment.  
Her brother. The most loyal, and best fighter in Atlas? Cheating on his wife? Her forehead crinkled with thought.

"Lionblaze wouldn't dare do such a disloyalty to you, Cinderheart. Stop being so paranoid!" Hollyleaf soothed, going through the books in her grandfather's library and carefully selecting the ones she had decided to read.

"But I know he is. He won't hold me, won't look at me like he used too. He's been so aloof lately..." Cinderheart rubbed her arms with her hands, as if she was chilly. Perhaps it was worry that was doing to her, because Hollyleaf was not at all chilled.  
"Come dearest," Hollyleaf urged, opening her arms to her friend, pity entering her gaze as she looked upon the pallid shell of Cinderheart's former vibrance. That next moment, Cinderheart had collased in Hollyleaf's arms, weeping as if her heart had been crushed, and laying out her troubles to Hollyleaf.

At the end of Cinderheart's collective woes, Hollyleaf stood, holding Cinderheart's hands in her own slender ones.  
"Come darling, I think a ride would do us good," she said, giving her friend a sad smile. Cinderheart's claims to Lionblaze's cheating would have to be investigated, and Hollyleaf would have to be the one to end this.

In truth, the news had depressed Hollyleaf in a way she knew not of. She desired only good things from those whom she loved, and yet her brother was causing her comrade much pain. And it was affecting Hollyleaf. And she had no Fallenleaves to speak to. The young mistress managed to saddle up Ember. Cinderheart needed her, and Hollyleaf was determined to be there for her friend.

†・†

– Hollyleaf –  
It had been only five days since the young mistress' encounter with Lord Breezepelt. The two aristocrats had often been found in each other's company, much to the surprise of their peers. It was common knowledge that Breezepelt was overall a very disagreeable young man, bitter and stoic to the core. Hollyleaf was the utter opposite of this, cheerful and sociable to those about her. Yet, the two opposites, ying and yang, interacted without much argument.

Foxleap, for one, had been totally astonished when Hollyleaf had decided to play chess with Breezpelt rather than to go for a ride with him. Breezepelt had given him a self-assured smirk, and his aura had suddenly become rather intimidating. A wounded Foxleap withdrew to seek the company of Ivytail and Mousewhisker.  
It was not of Hollyleaf's doing, this strange attraction to this insufferable young man. There was something about him that drew her to him, like a moth to a fire.

As she began to spend more time with him, Hollyleaf began to understand him better. Breezepelt was a misunderstood individual, a visionary with a yearning for the future. Yet, he had hidden these qualities away from them all, never cultivating them, helping them grow to the surface.  
"You aren't half as terrible as I thought you were," she told him one evening as they were relaxing in the gardens.

"Compliment or insult?" he inquired, his tone rather cold as he glanced down at her. He looked sullen to her, out of sorts, as if something was troubling him.  
"Compliment, good sir, unless you would rather take it as both," she replied snidely, standing up and pulling her shawl closer around her narrow shoulders.  
He simply grunted at her statement, apparently having no interest in the subject.

†・†

– Hollyleaf –

Fallenleaves' eyes were fixed on the foliage around them, his body rigid as he listened to the life about him. Her eyes roved over his chiseled features, her heart truly apprecative of his looks. Fallenleaves was not at all bad-looking, just handsome in his own way. Yet, while no one else saw his outright good looks, Hollyleaf's eyes had trained her mind that Fallenleaves' face held beauty like no other.

Unconciously, she reached for his slender hand, entwining her fingers with his. Both of them were taken by surprise by her gesture. Hollyleaf attempted to lull the blush which colored her cheeks, and pull her hand away from his. The two lover sat in that fashion for sometime, enjoying the late summer's breeze and one another's company.

"You leave for battle soon," Hollyleaf mused aloud, her eyes fixed on something in the distance. The svelte man lifted his head, his eyes searching her face, as if he was trying to read her mind.  
An immense wave of sadness crashed over Hollyleaf, her eyes beginning to water with the weight of the emotion. However, the sadness was soon replaced with affection. Her eyes glided down to the vestiage of the young man.  
"Will you come back?" she whispered. She didn't know what she was feeling right now. Ambivalence. That was it.  
Fallenleaves would depart with Bramblestar soon. He had been called to the frontlines to represent this Dynasty. Hollyleaf would miss his company.

"I don't intended to die." His voice might have startled her if she hadn't felt his presence behind her.  
"So long," she whispered, her words drifting away on the mild winds. It would most likely have been courteous for Hollyleaf at that most to excuse herself from his presence before she committed a ludicrous act in front of her comrade, but she could not move her limbs. And the tears came.

The slender hand upon her shoulder pulled her out of her painful thoughts and back into the present. The lean young man knelt before her, his green eyes boring into her emerald green ones. His wavy locks trembled slightly in the winds as he took her hands in his.

Her first love. Had he not always been her anchor, her best friend? She would feel the void of his presence greatly.  
She felt so close to him... like he was a brother and a lover...

†・†

– Hollyleaf –  
The next day was a rainy one, and everyone was confined to the shelter of the mansion, whether they liked it or not. Her husband had left earlier that morning, at first light. A sulking Hollyleaf spent her time with Ivytail, curled up on the sofa in the parlor. The two were not alone, as Mousewhisker followed Ivytail around dutifully after the heartbreak Hollyleaf had caused him. Foxleap and his comrades were also present, playing cards in the far corner of the room. Breezepelt was among them.

Heathertail had joined the group of young folks around noon, Lionblaze and Cinderpelt not far in her wake. The young mistress could see the misery in her friend's eyes as her husband fawned over another. It had come to Hollyleaf's attentions that Cinderpelt's worries were not unfounded, but that Lionblaze was having an affair with the heather-eyed mistress of Clonmel. She had employed the aid of her cousin in a scheme.

Already, the plan had commenced and was running rather smoothly. The moment the gray-haired noblewoman entered the room, Owlclaw seemed to lighten up, his features softening as Cinderpelt sat down with herself for company in a lonely corner. He immediately found himself in her radius, engaging her in witty conversation and cracking jokes. After seeing her friend throw her head back in genuine laughter, Hollyleaf looked away, smiling to herself as she resumed her reading.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Lionblaze watching Owlclaw, his jaw clenched, from his station beside the ever talking Heathertail. _Yes, Lionblaze. Someone else is making your woman laugh. If you won't, someone will. So who will it be?_

The young mistress grew frustrated with her brother, however, when he did not leave Heathertail's side. She grunted crossly, ignoring the idle chatter of Mousewhisker and Ivytail and immersing herself in the passage she was reading.

It wasn't long before Hollyleaf got the feeling she was being watched. Her lidded emerald gaze lifted to meet the gaze of Mousewhisker. He was looking at her rather intently, the emotion in his eyes unclear to her. A signature smirk pulled at the corner of his lips, and once more, Hollyleaf's heart began to pump faster, as it trying to break out of her rib cage. She let a little smile slip onto her features as she glanced back at her book, her hands growing cold with a dose of nervousness.

She felt as if his eyes bore into her very soul, and she could feel the beast stirring within her. Prey. Trying to calm herself, the young mistress bit her lip, closing her eyes as she inhaled. Mousewhisker was simply attempting to flirt with her, no doubt, a favor that she could not return. She was married, for Christ's sake. She could never forget that, was what she told herself, thumbing her wing anxiously.

There was much talk among the nobles still remaining at the Sweven estate, that the Siroccan general, one called Hawkfrost, was advancing through Altas lines.  
"Thornclaw must be at his wits end," Firestar had mused earlier that day, shaking his head. "Lionblaze, Jayfeather, you leave for the frontlines in a week."

Hollyleaf had stood quietly by, her green eyes trained upon her hands. She would also be losing her brothers to this war, no doubt. But if the AtlasCore was to win, her brothers were needed. Jayfeather was the greatest mind Atlas had seen in two centuries, and Lionblaze seemed to have been born for combat. He was a brilliant general under Commander Thornclaw.

Stonefur and his forces had already departed, Bluestar and those of her Dynasty returning to their home in the Llanfair province. Dustpelt's men had gone a fortnight before them, and Crookedstar had sent Leopardstar to the frontlines in his place. How Hollyleaf admired Leopardstar. In a war between men, the Nyland woman had arisen as one of the most spirited and valued generals in the AtlasCore. She was right up there with Bramblestar, Firestar, and Graystripe.  
Speaking of Graystripe, the gray-haired man had sent Longtail (his brother), and Stormfur with his troops to aid in the war. Yet, how was it that the only news Hollyleaf heard form the frontlines were of bad tidings. Every night she stay awake, thumbing her ring and wondering where on earth her husband was.  
Cinderheart's silvery laughter broke Hollyleaf from depressing thoughts of war. She glanced up again, gazing at the two with a soft gaze. She was glad for Owlclaw; what a kind soul he was to take Cinderheart's mind off of her current relationship problems with the blonde haired brother of the young mistress. There were things that even she could not do.

Feeling tears come to her eyes, Hollyleaf quietly excused herself from Ivytail's side and hurried out of the room. She kept her head down as she navigated her way through the halls of her grandfather's mansion, finding her way to the more quiet section of the estate and to the tunnels, which served as a storage place for old furniture. There was a back door around here, which let out into the east garden.

The young mistress stealthily crept through the door and out of the mansion, covering her curly cate with the shawl Fallenleaves had given her from town. That's where she was headed, town. There was a quaint little chapel outside of the town, nestled in a little grove of trees on the country side. Hollyleaf felt closest the Christ there, felt comforted by the serene peace that surrounded the place.

Many times as a younger girl, she had done this, the practice becoming a habit, so that each time she felt the need to cry, her feet led her down the well-trodden dirt road to the small town, and through the town to the parish church.

Ambling through the foliage, Hollyleaf raised her eyes to the ominous skies above, inhaling the smell of rain and soil. It was beautiful, her favorite smell, other than Cook making lintel stew. Giggling to herself, she jumped into the nearest puddle, enjoying the sound and feel of the muddy water on her bare ankles. She had discarded of her stockings long ago. Oh how she loathed stockings... and bulky dressed. Those she could not stand.

Luckily, the young mistress had opted to wear a plain mauve-hued gown, one her mother loathed the color of. Hollyleaf ran from puddle to puddle, jumping into them and at all minding the mess she was creating on the skirt of her dress. She felt like the child she had once been, carefree.

After ten minutes of this, the ebon-haired aristocrat caught sight of the growing town. She entered in the gates, looking around with bright eyes. People were milling around from shops and homes now that the rain had ceased, and children were playing the the puddles and being scolded by their respective mothers.

The town was called Zoan. It wasn't the largest city in the Sweven Province, in fact it was far from it. That would've been Kannon with a population of about 6,000 people and accounting for majority of the province's residents. Yes, Zoan was not large, with only about 200 people calling it home, but it was where the Sweven Dynasty had decided to call home, and Hollyleaf loved it all the same.

The black-haired woman was passing through the townsquare, no one having recognized her as yet as the honored Lady Hollyleaf. She was thankful, feeling rather relieved... until Morningcloud, a young girl who worked at the Sweven Manor, recognized her.

"L-lady Hollyleaf?" her golden eyes widened. Immediately, she bent over, bowing respectfully to the noblewoman.  
The green eyes of the young mistress spotted the produce in the basket which the young woman carried. Hollyleaf sighed, voicing an affirmation.  
"But please, dear, do not bow," she pleaded, pulling her shawl over her hair as villagers had begun to stare.

"But... what are you doing out here, mi'lady?" Morningcloud inquired, raising herself rather reluctantly. She timidly kept her eyes away from Hollyleaf's face, and it was then that Hollyleaf realized that it was the first time she had spoken to the girl. She voiced her thoughts before actually thinking about it.  
"I have the right to be here, do I not?" The statement had come out colder than Hollyleaf had meant it to, and the timid brunette fell to her knees, fearing she had somehow insulted her.  
"I'm sorry mi'lady. Do forgive me for speaking out of rank," Morningcloud pleaded, bowing her head to Hollyleaf's shoes.

Immediately, Hollyleaf cursed inwardly. She tried to assure Morningcloud that no harm had been done, a backer emerged from his shop. Seeing the prostrate woman before the feet of a sable-haired woman about her age, he recognized her.  
"Lady Hollyleaf?" he called to her. It was then that everything in the square seemed to hush. Hollyleaf's jaw was clenched as she bent to help the shaking Morningcloud to her feet.  
"You have done nothing to offend me, Morningcloud," she smiled graciously, taking the peasant's muddy hand. "Run along back to the manor now; I'm sure Cook is waiting for you."

Morningcloud gazed at Hollyleaf, her eyes beginning to tear up. Hastily she picked the basket up from the ground and kissed Hollyleaf's hand. "Thank you, mi'lady." With that, the young woman hurried away, a wide grin upon her face.  
With that matter dealt with, Hollyleaf turn around to speak to the baker. To her dismay, she saw that all present were bowed in her general direction.

"Yes sir? How may I help you?" she inquired, folding her hands before her. The baker's blue eyes sparkled and he sent her a grin, rising form his knees.  
"Your humble servant begs to try a loaf of his bread," the baker replied hopefully. Behind him, two fists clung to his tunic, and a gray haired child was peeking out at Hollyleaf with a shy smile.

"Of course, sir," Hollyleaf replied, her kind smile taking in both peasants. The baker nodded excitedly, and being her to wait a moment, hurried into the bakery behind him.  
"Please rise," the young mistress called, her voice ringing clearly throughout the town square. The towns people obeyed her wish, gingerly continuing on with their business.

The little boy still watched her, his baby-face speckled with freckles. His dark eyes watched her curiously, and lit up when she beckoned to him. Shyly, he walked over to her, not at all ashamed of his dirty garments.  
Hollyleaf stooped to be on eye level with him. He shifted awkwardly when she smiled at him, but returned her smile with a small one of his own.  
"What's your name boy?" she inquired softly, fully aware of the many stares that rested upon her back.

"Kestrelwing," he replied in a hushed voice, seeming almost afraid to speak to her.  
Hollyleaf nodded slowly, echoing his response. "Kestrelwing. That's a nice name, you know. Very similar to a friend of mine's: Kestrelflight." The little boy's eyes grew wide, excitement seeming to bubble up inside him at this juicy little fact which he would no doubt share with his other little friend later.  
"How old are you, Kestrelwing?"  
"I'm six," he recited, holding up a dirty palm for her to see. Hollyleaf raised her eyebrows, an impressed frown donning her feature.

"Almost a man I see," she told him, patting him on the shoulder. "I'm sure you'll be a good one." The young boy blushed a rosy pink, pulling his shoulder back proudly at the praise she had given him. As the baker returned, the boy gave her a quick peck on the cheek, scampering away before he could get caught. She stood, watching him fondly as he disappeared into a tangent road.

†・†

– A week later–  
The blue-eyed woman anxiously peered out of the window of her carriage. Her wet, light gray hair was plastered against her face, limp and damp on head. The rain still hadn't let up from yesterday, and the road were rather swampy and flooded with all the rainfall that had occurred that last night into this morning.

Willowshine appeared to be disappointed in the skies above, and had been in a noticeably bad mood from the moment she had gotten her hair wet. She was returning to her home in Nyland, and since Hollyleaf's brothers had departed for the frontlines earlier that week, Halfmoon and Cinderheart had gone back to the Pevensy estate the same day.

Majority of the nobles had departed earlier last week, with the exception of Breezepelt, Mousewhisker, and Willowshine. Squirrelflight had suggested that Willowshine take Hollyleaf to her home in the coast city of Aleric to keep her company and tale her mind of the events occurring on the Siroccan border. Willowshine had been delighted, and Mousewhisker had immediately opted to come with them. Breezepelt had simply grunted, wishing to depart for the frontlines the next day.

Mousewhisker sat across from the two young women now, his eyes trained upon Hollyleaf's face. They had been traveling for sometime now, a comfortable silence between the three, but now, Hollyleaf felt the need to squirm. She reached for Willowshine's gloved hand with her own, squeezing it for support. Nyland's ambassador turned to face her, smiling fondly.

"We're almost there Hollyleaf," she offered, giving their hands a maternal pat. Hollyleaf smiled, adjusting the ribbon of her bonnet under her neck.  
"I would hope so, dear," the young mistress replied, green eyes twinkling. She glanced at Mousewhisker then, relaxing as she saw that his head was resting against the side of the carriage, his eyes closed in sleep. She glanced at Willowshine, and the two erupted into smothered giggles.

About two hours later, Hollyleaf opened her eyes to find that the carriage was nearing a large mansion, fashioned from white limestone, and topped with a blue roof. The mansion stood on a cliff, overlooking the serene blue ocean and the white-sanded beach below.  
The sun was shining now, and the sky was free of all gray clouds, and sea gulls roamed the salty breezes with ease.

"I had forgotten how beautiful this place is," Hollyleaf murmured, mesmerized by the environs. Willowshine gave a light laugh, obviously pleased at her friend's awe.  
"Yes, I was beginning to miss being home," she replied as they pulled up into the drive. In the center of the drive was a granite fountain, water spilling over like a waterfall and splashing into the basin.

Excitedly, Hollyleaf threw open the carriage door, almost knocking over the footman who was about to do it for her. She descended from the carriage and to the ground, her slippers sinking in the sand of the drive. The carriage shivered as Willowshine stepped out beside her, barefoot. A sable eyebrow shot up.

"It's more comfortable this way," her friend explained, shrugging.  
Willowshine turned to the footman. "Sunnytail, would to please take care of the luggage and the sleeping young man in the carriage?" she inquired, a twinkle of amusement in her blue eyes as Sunnytail's eyes widened.

"Y-yes, Mi'lady," he managed, hurrying away do to her bidding. Satisfied, Willowshine turned to Hollyleaf.  
"Now that that is taken care of, let's take a little run to the beach, shall we darling?" she asked, reaching for Hollyleaf's hand and releasing her now-dried hair from the pin which had been holding it up.

Hollyleaf grinned, slipping out of her shoes and taking Willowshine's hand. "Yes, let's," she replied, taking her shoes in her hands. It was then that Willowshine started a mad dash toward the blue gates of her home, dragging Hollyleaf after her.  
"The shortest way is through the house," Willowshine informed her, her long locks flying out in the wind behind her. The footmen at the doors were kind enough to open them for the ladies, making the way clear.

Once inside, Hollyleaf dropped her slippers on the white granite floor of the foyer, determined not to be dragged along. Letting go of Willowshine's hand, she took a bunch of her skirts in hand and darted forward.

"I don't intend to loose, dearest," Hollyleaf quiped, pulling ahead of the Nyland woman. Willowshine shook her head in amusement. "Do-do you always have to make everything a competition?" Willowshine huffed, rolling her blue eyes.  
"What can I say," Hollyleaf replied, "I come from a competitive family."

Above them from the baclony came the excited shout, "Willowshine's home! Willowshine's home!" As the two teenage women ran past the stairwell, to the cry was added, "And she brought someone with her!" Hollyleaf smirked to herself as she and her friend charged through the hall. It was no doubt Mossypaw who heralded their trimuphant entrance. Hollyleaf laughed as the servants scurried to get out the way.  
One of those whom they passed was a gray-and white haired girl. Her pale amber eyes twinkled as she watched the two.

"Minnowtail!" Hollyleaf exclaimed as she passed the girl.  
"Hollyleaf!" Minnowtail called after her. "Where are you two going in such a hurry?"  
"It a race to the beach!" Willowshine replied, gaining on Hollyleaf. "Come on!" Hollyleaf throw a glance over her shoulder, trying to see how far it would before she an Willowshine were side by side. Not much, she thought.

It was then that she saw Mossypaw, Pouncetail, and Minnowtail in fast pursuit. She laughed, turning a corner and entering the kitchen. The staff look surprised at the black haired aristocrat charging through their kitchen, and dove out of the way, spilling batter everywhere.

"Excuse me!" Hollyleaf offered, exiting the large kitchen through the back door.  
Now, she was home free. The sensation of the soft grass on her feet relaxed her, but she wouldn't stop until she had gotten to the beach. The blue skies stretched above her, the waves called for her, and the birds cheered her on. Gleeful screams sounded behind her, and Hollyleaf allowed herself to look over her shoulder.

Pouncetail had Mossypaw over his shoulder now, running with her bouncing on his shoulder. Willowshine had somehow fallen behind and was determined to catch up. Minnowtail was now in second place and gaining fast.

_Come on Hollyleaf,_ she told herself. _Faster_. She willed her legs to move faster as her toes came in contact with the sand. She was rounding the corner of the steep down the cliff, when she saw him too late. She bumped into him, promptly bowling him over on impact. He stopped somewhere further down, while Hollyleaf just kept rolling.

"Aye! Ouch! Tsssk!" she exclaimed as she continued to roll.  
Finally, she stopped rolling at the foot of the hill. Her body felt rather sore after the event. "Ahhh," she sighed, closing her eyes. Sand was everywhere, in her hair, in her dress, in her stockings. It was simply dreadful.

"Hollyleaf?" Willowshine's voice rang through the air, lined with concern.  
Eager to allay all worry, Hollyleaf stood slowly, her muscles aching in resistance. She raised her arms in the air and waved them wildly. "What took you all so long?" she yelled, a huge grin on her face. "Why didn't you use the shortcut?"

Her friends laughs were ones of relief, and she turned her back to them, pulling up her skirts and venturing into the ocean. The water was cold against her feet, the grains of sand rolling on her foot bottom. Raising her face to the shining sun, she closed her eyes, allowing the light to warm her skin.

There was a rather disagreeable pain which was eminating from her ankle. She could barely stand on it was, and she was worried that it was sprained. However, she kept her concerns to herself as her peers joined her. Mossypaw was rosy-cheeked, clinging to Willowshine's arm as they walked over to Hollyleaf. Minnowtail was ambling some distance behind them, her eyes sparkling. Pouncetail and his companion appeared to be speaking seriously about a subject, of which was no doubt, war.

Hollyleaf recognized the other young man as the same one who she had run over earlier. His face was familiar, those striking blue eyes, that swarthy skin, and those handsome, Greecian features which were seemingly chiseled out of rock. Immediately, the young mistress was taken back to a winter about eleven years back...

_Hollyleaf sat by herself, her legs dangling beneath the chair she sat upon. Her parents were throwing a Yuletide ball, and she had been forced to dress up and green eyes child sighed, folding her arms crossly. She was so bored, she would have rathered Nana Echomist put her to bed than having to endure this. Her brother's had left her not long ago, Jayfeather with Breezepelt and the trusty company of a book, and Lionblaze running around with Foxleap and Owlclaw._  
_A glint was reflected in her eyes as the sable-haired urchin spotted the long table of food set up in the far corner of the banquet hall. Her mouth watered as she tried to keep it in line of sight, leaning her body so she could look past the waltzing dancers. Unasummingly, she descended from her chair, and keeping to the walls of the hall, she navigated her way around the room and to the table. _  
_Grabbing herself a glazed bun and a slice of pie, she disappeared under the table to partake of the feast which up until now, she had only dreamed of eating. When hidden from sight, she immediately proceeded to stuff her mouth with the goodies all at once. Her hands empty, she tried to chew, but her cheeks were bulging with the sweets. _  
_Out of the blue, she heard a snicker not far away. She whirled around to see a blue-eyed boy watching her, his hand over his mouth in attempt to smother his laughter._  
_"Whaf?" she managed, glaring at him defensively and attempting to sallow a small piece of the bun. He shrugged, leaning forward to poke her cheek. He giggled again, brushing his dark gray hair from his eyes. _  
_It was then that she noticed the bun in his other hand. Finally succeeding in swallowing her food, Hollyleaf grinned._  
_"Are you going to eat that?" she inquired sheepishly, eyeing the bun rather than the boy who held the bun. He nodded reluctantly, lifting his hand to stare the glazed sweet._  
_"We can share it," he proposed, giving her an endearing lopsided grin. Her face lit up at the idea._  
_"Sure!" she agreed, watching him as he tore it in half and gave her a piece..._

Hollyleaf remembered hiding under the table with that child for the duration of the Christmas party. They were found the next morning curled up beside each other, still underneath the table, holding hands. She had never gotten his name, neither had she seen him again; all she knew about him was that he was from the Nyland Dynasty. But Hollyleaf never forgot a face, and this face... it must be him. Her little childhood companion.

Willowshine shouldered the young mistress, her blue eyes twinkling. "You're staring, Hollyleaf."  
Hollyleaf blushed, turning her head from the two approaching young men. "I apologize. I didn't mean to. It's just that-"  
"No, not. It's perfectly alright, dear," Willowshine laughed, looping her arm through Hollyleaf's.

"Besides, I don't believe you have ever met him before anyways," said her friend dismissively, watching Mossypaw and Minnowtail fishing shells from the water.  
It was only a few moments later that the Nyland noblemen joined them, and Hollyleaf stood awkwardly by while Willowshine opened conversation with them. She felt out of place at the moment, and it did not help that she could feel him staring at her. She lifted her green eyes to meet his blue ones. They appeared nonchalant as they continued to rest on her.

"Ah, Rainstorm," Willowshine started, "I don't believe you have yet met-"  
"Hollyleaf!" Her name came not from the lips of Willowshine, but from a person not far off. It was a male, running down the beach towards them as if a devil was chasing after him. Mousewhisker, she thought, smirking to herself.

"Excuse me," she said, bowing to the three before backing away, and turning around. Picking up her skirts, Hollyleaf began a mad dash toward the man. What's wrong now, she thought to herself.  
Upon reaching her, Mousewhisker held his arms out to her. She grabbed hold of his arms, stopping herself.

"What is it?" she inquired, her emerald eyes searching his familiar face. "Is it news of the frontlines?" Mousewhisker nodded, his face twisted in misery and his breathing labored.  
"L-leafpool and Crowfeather," he managed, holding her by the shoulders, his eyes boring into hers.  
"Wh-what about them?" Hollyleaf stammered, knowing she didn't want to ask. Already, her eyes were shining with unshed tears.

"Th-They're dead, Hollyleaf," he struggled, evidently hating to be the one to bear the bad tidings.  
She couldn't stop the tears from coming this time. She collapsed into Mousewhisker's embrace, resting her head on his chest, and sobbing her heart out. Her aunt was dead. Gone... forever.

"They were found in the drive of the Clonmel Manor this morning, their stomachs ripped open, and their hearts on a silver platter beside them," Mousewhisker explained reluctantly. He didn't know whether of not to tell her anything else.  
Upon hearing this, Hollyleaf lost all strength in her legs, falling to the ground. It was Mousewhisker who held her up, kneeling down upon the sand, and holding her close. The tears wouldn't stop. The pain wouldn't stop. Her auntie Leafpool... she had been like a mother to Hollyleaf, always taking interest in whatever her niece was doing, always advising her in a gentle, wise voice.

And now she was gone. Just. Like. That. And what hurt the most, was that Hollyleaf couldn't do anything for her aunt. She had thought her father and the other nobles of Atlas would do something. But no. All of them were proud, incompetent mules. They simply looked at Hollyleaf as a pawn. She would go to the family with the highest bidder, technically speaking. It was all about the power that would be brought to the marriage.

But Leafpool had seen her as a human... as someone with feelings. As a girl. And Hollyleaf would really miss that. She was closer to her aunt Leafpool, than she was the her aunt Mothwing. Already, Hollyleaf could feel the loss. She would be lost without Leafpool. Mousewhisker's gentle embrace was calming as he rocked her back and forth, letting her cry on his shoulder. It was a blessing from God to have a friend like this, who loved her.

"Hollyleaf..." Mousewhisker's voice was sad, his tone serious. She leaned back to stare into his face, her body still heaving with the tears that she shed. "They've called my brother and I to the frontlines..."  
Her eyes widened with realization. Were they going to call all whom she held close? Her brothers, her grandfather, he father, and Graystripe even? Now Mousewhisker would be leaving.

"Please," she pleaded, her voice quivering with emotion. With pain. The tears flowed from with her, the dam of her heart breaking open. "Please don't leave me," she begged him, her eyes searching his. However, she knew. It was impossible for Mousewhisker not to got to battle. While his brother Berrynose had a family, he had no one. He was someone who could die without leaving behind a child and a widow.

Sombered, she lay her head back upon his chest, taking a fist of his linen shirt in her hand. "I'm so sorry," she whispered to him, silent tears streaming down her face. He had loved her as more than the best friend she had been to him for so many years. She had rejected his heart... his offer of love. Just like she had so many others.

Mousewhisker lifted his hands, taking her face in his hands and looking at her with soft eyes. "We've always made a great team, Holly P. Even if you don't love me, I will always love you." He held her close again, kissing her forehead. "Thanks for being my best friend."

Hollyleaf burst into tears again. She really didn't want to let him go. "When do you leave, Mousewhisker?" she asked, her voice amlost inaudible to her own ears.  
"At first light," he said, his voice viberating in her ear as he pressed his cheek against her head.  
"Don't leave me until then," she whispered, relazing against him.  
"I won't."

†・†

– Rainstorm –  
"They seem close," he remarked, watching the two nobles collapse into one another's arms. It was as if they craved for each others touch, as if thier bodies were one, moving perfectly in sync. There was a strange beauty about the sight, the glistening drops of heartbreak upon her cheeks, the sadness mirrored in his eyes.

"It's because they are," Willowshine repliedher voice sounding a bit wistful. The Nyland nobleman glanced at his friend, eyebrow raised. The gentle features of her face were etched with a certain longing, one that was apparent as a midnight's dream held deep within her heart.  
"Why can't I go to Hollyleaf? She's obviously crying; she needs to be cheered up!" Mossypaw protested, trying to breakfree of Pouncetail's grip around her waist. Minnowtail shook her head solemnly.  
"Dear Moss, I know your intentions are good, but right now, it's thier time. We will have our time later, don't worry," Minnowtail comforted, giving the younger girl a maternal pat upon the shoulder.  
After watching the two for a few seconds later, Mossypaw perky up, her eyes shimmering. "Come on, let's race back to the house!" she yelled, taking off into the same direction she had come just fifteen minutes before. Minnowtail and Pouncetail grinned at one another before following her, thier laughter ringing through the clear sea breeze, and wafting up into the blue skies above.  
Rainstorm stood quietly beside Willowshine for a few moments, watching Mousewhisker and Hollyleaf with some curiousity, and more pity.  
"He is her best male companion," Willowshine said, not looking at Rainstorm as she spoke. "We all thought they would soon wed, and I think that Mousewhisker thought so too..." Rainstorm raised an eyebrow quizzically as she paused.  
"I suppose he was rejected?" he guessed, turning his head to train his blue gaze on the gray-haired woman beside him. She gave a sad smile before responding with a nod.  
"He was so hopeful," she told him, shaking her head. "When I asked him about it, he said that he knew she had a reason... he was certain that she was inlove with another."  
The man nodded in understanding, intertwining his fingers behind his back.  
"At that time I thought him entirely wrong," Willowshine chuckled, shrugging, "I know that if Hollyleaf was ever inlove, she would tell me and ask my oppinion. I am her best friend, after all. But in the week that I spent at her grandfather's mansion, she was surrounded by many elligible young noblemen, most of whom looked upon her favorably. First and foremost there was Foxleap of Mendebras."  
"I've heard of him... but haven't yet had to pleasure of formally meeting him," Rainstorm thought aloud, making a mental note.  
"Of course not," Willowshine retorted, rolling her eyes, "You've been in Revenant studying for majority of your life. And the only time you ever came to visit was each year at Yuletide. And even then, you were terribly anti-social and stayed far away from any type of gathering." Rainstorm chuckled, guiltily nodding to himself.  
During his schooling, he had dedicated all of his time and energies to his studies. After all, being sent to the best scholastic institute in the three realms naturally warranted competition between the young men who attended the academy. Rainstorm had slaved hard over his studies to stay at the top of all his classes. For majority of his life, he had lived in Revenant under that watchful care of his keeper, one by the name of Sunnytail. Sunnytail had been to him both an older brother and father to him from the age of five, when he first left Atlas for Revenant.  
Now, he had returned to Atlas, after completing all thirteen years of schooling. He was going to become the had of the Nyland Dynasty sooner than later no doubt... that was if Leopardstar didn't kill him before that day came. The auburn-haired woman had been a sort-of second in command to Crookedstar for many years, yet, Crookedstar had chosen Rainstorm to succeed him rather than her.  
Willowshine's next words broke him out of his reverie. "Do you know Halfmoon?" Rainstorm rolled his eyes in exasperation.  
"Who doesn't? She is Crown Princess of Revenant for goodness sakes," he joked, elbowing his childhood friend.  
"You are aware that she was married not long ago, right?" Willowshine continued, ignoring his gesture.  
"Yes, to a man called Jayfeather de Pevensy from Atlas," Rainstorm recited, wondering what this had at all to do with anything.  
"Jayfeather is brother to Hollyleaf, making her sister to the future king of Revenant," Willowshine stated plainly, turning to face Rainstorm. Her blue eyes bored into his own.

"This is why she is so very elligible to many of the younger noblemen of Atlas. Because she will have high rank in both countries... no, she already does have high ranking. She is related to almost every Dynasty in Atlas. Her father is head of Pevensy, her grandfather is head of Sweven, the mistress of Mendebras happens to be her great-aunt, and because Sandstorm is cousin to Sorreltail of Aisling, she is also cousin to Hollyleaf."

He was taken aback by all this information. How was it possible for one woman to hold so much power? It amazed him, and he must be truthful... he wanted Hollyleaf for himself too. "That's alot of power," Rainstorm said, both eyebrows rising to the occasion this time. Willowshine nodded in agreement.

"When Mousewhisker was rejected, Hollyleaf appeared to be spending alot of time with a young nobleman by the name of Breezepelt, from Clonmel. He is incredibly difficult if you ask me, but the two seem relatively close. What is interesting is that Breezpelt's mother, Nightcloud, is a cousin to Mudclaw, the former king of Sirocco. Now, imagine if Hollyleaf married Breezepelt, how is heir to the throne of Sirocco?"  
For Rainstorm, this was truly information overload. Rather than Jayfeather and Halfmoon, Breezepelt and Hollyleaf would be the true power couple. They would set a foot in all the diplomatic processes of the three realms. Was that even legal? It was possible, even, to unite the Eastern, Middle, and Western Realms under one rule. Rainstorm inhaled, exhaling in a whistle. It was rather incredible to believe.  
He knew one thing though. If this was what the two were planning, he wanted in.

Stategically, the plot appeared sound from all points of view. Unless... the two did not wed. Perhaps Hollyleaf had no feelings for this Breezepelt at all? But it would be for the best interest of them all if the two became wed. Rainstorm watched the black-haired noble from afar, seeing her in a new light. He would have to look into a few things, and he would also have to get closer to Hollyleaf... She was the key in this puzzle. This puzzle to achieve the highest power known to any noble of the three realms. He only wondered if she was aware yet...


	6. Sweet Taste of Bitter

|the sweet taste of bitter|

– Hollyleaf –

Mousewhisker, true to his word, never left her side for the remainder of the day. The two friends spent majority of the day in the gardens in one another's company, sprawled out on a blanket beside each other. Thier positions varied, sometimes they lay on their backs, looking up at the shape-shifting clouds above. Other times, when Hollyleaf would break into tears, Mousewhisker would turn on his side, envolping her in his warm embrace. The young mistress had no qualms in crying before her friend, for he had seen her in her worst times and yet, he loved her still.

At dinner, he made sure to dine beside her, reaching for her hand underneath the table when it appeared she would cry. And she ended up crying, against her will. She left rather abuptly from the dining table, her hands covering her face, without excusing herself. Crookedstar was kind and understanding, and did not mind her behavior, for they were aware of her loss.

Many times, Willowshine held Mossypaw from going to the crying woman, giving Hollyleaf space to gather the reigns of her emotions. So Hollyleaf traversed the stone paths of the gardens alone, her eyes red and puffy, her face haggard and drawn. Her pale face was a great contrast against the coal black of her hair, and her eyes roamed listlessly over the grounds about her.

The funeral was to be held within a weeks time, for there many nobles who were to return from the frontlines to attend the burial ritual of those who had been cut down. It would be held in Durban, the capital city of the Clonmel Province. Already, Tallstar must have been preparing for the many guests would attend the service, and making arrangements concerning the processional march from the Clonmel mansion to the church.

It was then that a certain person passed through her thoughts. Breezepelt. How was he holding up with the loss of his father? Now that Crowfeather was deceased, Breezepelt was first in line for the position as head of Clonmel. Of course, he could take the position until he was the age of twenty-one, so Onestar would be the one to take his place until he became of age.

The Pevensy woman sat upon a marble bench which stood alone, resting serenely under a birch tree, and surrounded by both lilies and tulips. How had life become such a painful experience for her? How had she lost those closest to her in a period of less than a week? The man she had come to love, the aunt who was more than a mother than Squirrelflight ever was to her. Both, lost to her.

Hollyleaf sighed, looking down at the ring the decorated her intertwined fingers. It was right to assume the worst in the case of Fallenleaves; he would most likely return to Atlas, but without life. And she would have to be wed in the near future. She knew her father had been considering the options, and which offer would be more adventagious for the Pevensy Dynasty.

Hollyleaf was well away thats he was one of the most powerful young women in the realm, having connections from all over Atlas. She was even sister to the future king of Revenant. Bramblestar had all of this in mind as he reviewed those who were elligable. She knew only a few whom he had in mind. There was Foxleap of Mendebras, for one. Though he was not the the first in line to be head of Mendebras, the marriage would tighten the ties between the two Dynsties, seeing as Dustpelt and Bramblestar did not get along.

There was also Mousewhisker of the Aisling Dynasty. His brother, Berrynose, was first in line to take over Aisling, however, if he died, it would go to Mouswwhisker. Not to mention, almost everyone in Atlas liked Mousewhisker, and everyone knew hat he and Hollyleaf were very close.

Breezepelt was another strategic choice, and would tie Hollyleaf not only to the Clonmel house, but also to Sirocco. Not to mention, now that Crowfeather was dead, he would be first in line to the Clonmel Province. He was a perfect choice in anyone's eyes.

She doubted her was considering Owlclaw, who had asked her to marry him from the age of fifteen. Owlclaw was one of the last remaining nobles of the Anujda. He was the last of a dying bloodline, and had been taken in by the Sweven Dynasty out of pity. No, Owlclaw had no chance whatsoever.

There was also Pouncetail of Nyland. He had also extended an offer of marriage to Hollyleaf, and it was a tempting offer. He was brother to Willowshine, Hollyleaf's closest friend, and seeing as Pevensy had no ties to Nyland through marriage, Pouncetail would be a welcome choice.

However, Hollyleaf knew her father, and Bramblestar did not just want a connection to Nyland. He wanted his only daughter to marry the head of Nyland if possible. He was a young man by the name of Rainstorm. He was supposedly the son of Feathertal, who had had him out of wedlock. Featehrtail had hidden him in her rooms at the Nyland mansion, taking care of him there. But when she passed away, Crookedstar found him wrapped up in a small cradle, crying with loneliness. No one ever spoke of it, and hardly anyone had seen the child.

Personally, Hollyleaf had never before met him, and only heard of him from the nobles of Nyland. Apparently he had spent all but four years in Revenant, participating in rigorous studies in order to gain knowledge he would need to rule Nyland.

It had come to her attention, however, that this "Rainstorm" character had completed his schooling and had arrived at Nyland earlier that summer. She was rather interested in meeting this "ghost" of the Nyland Dynasty. Already, Blossomfall was charmed by the things she had heard about the young man from Willowshine's stories. She had determined to married her, however, she could not marry him unless he extended a proposal.

And to Hollyleaf, Rainstorm had not yet sent a proposal, and neither had Breezepelt, because Breezepelt was supposably promised to marry Heathertail. It was so that both Onestar's and Crowfeather's bloodlines would be united. Bramblestar's most promising options had not shown interest in marrying Hollyleaf. The ebon-haired noble was not sure whether to to be insulted of relieved by their lack of initative.

"I am deeply sorry for your loss, Lady Hollyeaf."

The sudden voice behind her almost startled Hollyleaf, and probably would have, if the beast within her hadn't sensed his presence.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, sir. It is no fault of yours; it is simply fate acting against me," she responded without even looking up at the man. He walked around to stand before her. She watched his boots, riding boots, ad they came to a stop before her. How she missed Ember right now... and Fallenleaves. He had left a day to soon.

The young man bent his knees, stooping before her, attempting to look into her face. She allowed him too, her green gaze meeting his blue ones. Blue-gray hair fell into his eyes, and he smiled sadly up at her, genuine concern written all over his features. This was the man from the beach, who Pouncetail had been conversing with. Her old childhood comrade. A small smile fluttered on her lips, dying almost as soon as it was given life.

Perhaps he was a stableman, thought Hollyleaf to herself as she brushed a stray curl from her forehead and tucked it behind her ear.

"Will you not smile?" the man inquired softly, still searching her face. Hollyleaf narrowed her eyes at him. How inconsiderate could he be? Her aunt had just passed away for Christ's sake. And he tell her. To. Smile. Angrily, Hollyleaf rose to her feet, knocking the young man in his back in surprise at her sudden movement.

"How can one smile when they have lost one of the dearest people in the world? You apathetic, insolent mule!" Hollyleaf exploded, tears entering her eyes once more as she told the stranger off. Her dress rustled as she briskly began to walk away, her braid swinging down her back behind her.

The gull of peasants these days. In fact, it wasn't peasants. Simply people in general. Always prying, giving advice when it wasn't needed, spreading rumors like idiotic fools. They were all full of useless talent. She wanted them to shut their wagging mouths and leave her alone. They would not control her. Society could go to hell (pardon my language), and she wouldn't even care.

What did she have left to hope for in this cruel, unforgiving world? Everyone was telling her what to do, how to write the story that was her life. But it was her destiny, her life. Because when she truly thought about it, everyone was alone in the end, and no one was coming to save her. She was no longer living her own life, but a life according to other people's standards. And she loathed it.

Maybe tomorrow she would believe that the world was a good place, but not today. Today, her hatred was steered towards everyone, and she cared not what they thought. Out of the blue, Leafpool's voice echoed in her head, "Be patient and endure, my love; someday this pain will be of use to you."

Hollyleaf relaxed, her brow returning to it's natural state. Yes, that had been a lesson Holyleaf had learned from Leafpool after learning that she was a duel wielder. The advice had gotten her far in life, protecting her from making the unwise decisions made by those before her. For instance, she had seen how things had gone with Crowfeather and Nightcloud. It told her to marry for love, and not for rank.

That was how she had decided to marry Fallenleaves rather than Mousewhisker or wasn't as if she didn't love them. Of course she did, after all she had grown up with them. The nobles of Atlas were very tight-nit, and that was were majority of the disagreements came from, but that wasn't the point. She saw them all as brothers from the day she had come to know them... except for Pebblefoot, he had always been cross and Hollyleaf had stayed away from him.

However, looking back, there were so many beautiful memories she had with these people... and she could even blackmail them if she wanted too. For instance, when Minnowtail cut off Willowshine's braid, or when Foxleap ate a mud pie because Icecloud had made it so lovingly for him. There was the time when Mousewhisker used to sit in front of his mirror and close his eyes, wishing to grow a beard. He came out a month later with some of his hair cut off and glued to his chin.

Hollyleaf giggled, remembered the screams of his mother when she saw the newly bearded Mousewhisker. Dustpelt had broken out in uncontrollable laughter, smacking his knee as tears came to his eyes. Deadfoot of Clonmel, who had also happened to be present, shook his head silently, trying to keep solemn but the amusement could be seen in his eyes. After those happenings, Mousewhisker had stubbornly refused to show his face and had taken all meals and tutoring sessions in his quarters.

Thinking these things, the young mistress wandered back inside the Nyland mansion. She ran her fingers over the white walls of the pallid halls as she ascended to her chambers. Her rooms were airy, the large windows having been opened by the maids so that the cool sea breeze wafted through the sheer curtains.

Closing the door behind her, Hollyleaf slipped out of her shoes, tiptoeing on the chilled tiled floors and over the large king-sized bed in the center of the room. She collapsed on it, feeling exhausted and fatigued. Who knew loss could be so tiring. She could no longer cry, for her tear ducts had run dry. And so she stared disinterestedly at the world outside her windows until she fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

†・†

– Hollyleaf –

Luminescent green eyes flashed open in the complete darkness. The world was silent around her; nothing stirred around her. She lay sprawled across her bed, in the same position which she had fallen asleep in; the only difference was the fact that a blanket had been thrown over her body.

Feeling terribly lethargic and dizzy, Hollyleaf attempted to sit up. She was about to shift into her more comfortable form, a beast, when she noticed a body in the chair beside her bed. Almost immediately, she recognized the sleeping figure as Mousewhisker.

Her friend's head was drooped in sleep, his eyes closed, and his lashes resting prettily on lightly flushed cheeks. His shoulder-length curls fell all around him, lightly kissing his forehead. Hollyleaf smiled softly to herself. What a sweet friend he was, to watch over her in her time of need. He seemed so peaceful, sitting there before her.

Gingerly, Hollyleaf shifted from the bed, coming around to kneel before him. She looked up into his face, taking his hand from the arm of the chair and holding it in her own. All at once, his body tensed, his eyes flashing open at her touch. He relaxed, however, when he saw her before him, blinking drowsily down at her.

"Aren't you uncomfortable?" she whispered, almost afraid to break the silence which had been crafted so skillfully around them. He smiled, nodding slightly and putting his hand up to rub the back of his neck. She stood up, his hands still in hers. She backed towards the large bed as he stood up, following her.

'I don't mind if you sleep by my side, just for tonight," the young mistress murmured quietly. His eyes were wide, and he seemed very uncertain, but she smiled at him, pulling him onto the bed. She lay down, and he lay down behind her. Hollyleaf closed her eyes once again, falling asleep to the rhythmic breaths of Mousewhisker, the symphony of the crickets, and the feeling of his arm draped over her waist.

†・†

– Omniscient –

The sky was a large black, velvet canvas, glittering with tiny diamonds, here and there. The cool night wind was slowly picking up, but no one noticed inside the banquet hall. If one glanced from the windows, outside to look down upon the royal gardens, they would have seen the shape of a girl, running through the gardens, her clock flying out behind her like a banner. Her dark hood fell from her head, revealing wild chestnut locks. Her amber eyes drifted up to look upon the full moon above. Behind her, the heavy footsteps were drawing closer. Much to close for comfort.

The girl began to panic, pulling the hood back over her head. She picked up the skirts of her elegant gown, forcing herself to run faster through the twists and turns of the gardens. A shill whinny floated to her ears on the cool autumn breeze. If she could just make it to the the stables, she thought to herself. Her breathing was labored as she attempted to finish the encouraging thought. If she could make it to the stable, if she could mount a horse, she would be free.

Her breath was knocked out of her as suddenly, she was grabbed from behind, a hand stifling any scream she might be able to let out of her mouth.

"Ye won't be yapping y're lil' mouth anymore, lass," her abductor slurred gruffly, spittle flying on her cheek. Her heartbeat quickened as she felt the chilled iron blade of a knife, slide across her jaw, down her neck and to her chest.

Her amber eyes widened in fear. She began to shake as she attempted to shy away from the threatening blade, her breathing becoming ragged.

"It'll be such a pity to marr ye pretty skin, eh?" the man hissed, tracing the side of her shoulder with the knife, applying a slight pressure.

The girl struggled to breathe, to think. A plan lit up within her brain. Quickly, she became limp in his arm. Thinking she had fainted, the perpetrator loosened his grip upon her body. It was then that she spun swiftly around to face him, kneeing his groin as she did so. The man muffled his agony as he fell to the ground, the pebbles shifting noisily beneath him.

Swiping the knife from his hand, the girl forced her legs to move. Fleeing as fast as her legs would allow, she attempted to rip off the hem of her dress so that she could move with more ease. She darted into the stables ignoring the livery men as they watch her, yet glancing behind her at the same time.

She whistled for her stallion, and he whinnied in response. Hurrying to his stable, she freed him, leading him from the stall. Not bothering to saddle the steed, the girl attempted to mount him, her stomach making contact with the curve of his back. He knickered, glancing back at her over his shoulder with curious brown eyes, prancing impatiently.

The girl stiffened as she felt two strong hands grip her waist and hoist her high enough so that she was able to mount her stallion properly. Now upright on the back of the tall bay stallion, the girl dipped her head to her air, a stable boy whom she had seen thrice before.

"Thanks to you, young man. I will repay my debt to you one day," she promised dipping her head regally to the commoner. With that, she locked her arms around the stallion's thick neck. She kicked his sides, and with a fierce, "Yah!' the stallion reared up triumphantly and dashed into the darkness of the night, his rider's clock dancing in the wind.

The girl clung to the stallion's neck for dear life, her blood pounding through her ears. She glanced over her shoulder, praying that no one pursued her. The bay stallion did not slow down as horse and rider exited the palace walls. The guards shouted after her, some even running after her down the path. However, they were no match for the stallion's speed.

Outside, the forest was dark, and eerily silent. Hugging the steed closer, the girl steered the noble stallion off the main path which led to the city of Tearbridge. The horse sped through the trees at full gallop. She squinted, attempting to bury her face in his neck as the cold air stung her eyes. She adjusted her hold upon his mane as she felt herself sliding off his smooth back.

A loud sound of ripping fabric filled her ears, and the girl glanced up to see that her petticoat her ripped. Oh, wonderful, she thought to herself. She watched the fabric of one of her most expensive and extravagant gowns, waved her farewell from the tree branch. As it grew smaller and smaller, the girl felt as if it showed symbolically that she was leaving her leisurely life of pomp and court behind.

Her position in court and her favored status were nothing to her now. She was free! Just like that. But no doubt, they would be after her. Those evil creations who worked only for the highest bidder. Those creatures of the night. She was endangered, and it was only by wit and courage that she was going to live now.

†・†

– Omniscient/Next morning –

The palace gardens were serene at the time of morning. The mother of the kingdom lay reclined on a couch, surrounded by flowers of every shade, color, and fragrance, Relieving the honored lady of the late summer's heat were two slave girls, imported from the villages of the Great Mountains, gently fanning their mistress with giant white plumes skillfully attached to the likes of a golden rod, encrusted with turquoise gems here and there.

A cooling breeze danced through the colorful tails of the roaming peacocks, past the marble fountain, and under the branches of the swaying willow tree. With it came a buff solider, deck out in military regalia, and hurrying down the sandstone pathway to his mistress. He stopped silently before the lady, getting down upon her knees in respect as he awaited her acknowledgement of his presence.

Popping a grape into her mouth from the gilded tray beside her, Mapleshade's eyes remained closed, long dark lashes on alabaster skin.

"What is it, Hawkfrost?" her voice flowed from her lips like honey.

The general cleared his throat before saying, "The Numina disappeared between the lake of Jolon and the Atlas border."

There was a vicious silence following the man's report. And then came the strangled reply, "Y-you lost her?" she sputtered, her amber eyes flashing open, blazing as they rested upon the kneeling blue-eyed solider.

"Affirmative," was the response. It took an intense degree of self-control not to strike her most valuable man, and Mapleshade reclined once more.

"Call them out. Give them a piece of scent to follow, and let them loose." She smiled softly to herself. "They'll do what humans cannot."

†・†

– Pebblefoot –

If he was honest, Pebblefoot was neither a pessimist nor was he a grump. It was a common and popular misconception about him which he had never corrected. The truth was that in reality, he only stated the worse possible outcomes of situation, or the world as people knew it. Thus, he had often been deemed "devil's advocate" in many debates or conversations, and shunned at many social gatherings.

It was by the mercies of heaven above and by the care of his mother, Dawnflower, and his sister, Minnowtail, that he had not yet given in to a mild form of insanity. He was disliked by relatively all in the Nyland Dynasty. Mossypaw avoided him like the plague, he had snapped at Willowshine more than once, and Pouncetail tended to stay away from his radius.

It was a wonder how, currently, he was wandering carelessly through the streets of Aleric, shoulder-to-shoulder with those whom normal were not appreciative of his views and inputs. Well, it was not technically shoulder to shoulder, considering that the only dared walk beside his miserable existence was Rainstorm.

It was he who had invited Pebblefoot on this little excursion to cheer Hollyleaf de Pevensy. Apparently the slogan was, "The more the merrier!", the idea being to see all the beautiful places of the city. Willowshine and Minnowtail walked arm-in-arm with Hollyleaf between them, Minnowtail making jokes and Willowshine informing her of small, insignificant happenings in Aleric.

Pouncetail and Rainstorm were debating again, and once more, Pebblefoot had been left as the odd one out. Perhaps he should have left with Mousewhisker for the frontlines this morning instead of Mistystar. Scowling crossly, the Nyland man jammed his hands into his pockets, ignoring the bowing lessers and peasant who watched the group with wide eyes and whispering mouths.

It would have been better if he had just stayed home and read a book in the hammock. After all , Aleric could live without a glimpse of Pebblefoot. Like Rainstorm, Pebblefoot had hardly been seen out in public like this. In fact, it was the first time in three years that he was walking through the streets of Aleric. Unlike Willowshine, Pouncetail, and Minnowtail who came every weekend, no one would recognize him.

Now that Rainstorm had returned from Revenant, he joined the three more social butterflies in their escapades around two. Minnowtail had informed him that Rainstorm had built up quite a group of admirers among the citizens, taking away from those who had before admired Pouncetail. She claimed that it was Pebblefoot's time to make an appearance, so that girls would fall madly in-love with him and so that he could employ flirting as a new pass time.

Pebblefoot had rolled his eyes, and yet, he was here, walking through the city with he rest of them. Without a carriage. Luckily, he had chosen to sport his riding boots for those were his most comfortable shoes.

People lined the cobblestone streets, along with the venders and their booths, making way for the noble people.

"Who's that one?" he heard a woman whisper to a young mother beside her.

"Per'aps he's a visit'n friend or somethin'," she replied, occupied with rocking her miserable child to sleep. Over the bustling sounds of the marketplace, Pebblefoot strained to heard the other woman's response.

"But he bears strong resemblance to Dawnflower, in fact, more than Minnowtail does."

"Well, I had heard that Minnowtail had a twin brother..."

Pebblefoot's mouth twitched in annoyance, passing the two woman and fully aware of the fact that thier eyes were upon him. It was then that Minnowtail let go of Hollyleaf, moving back to take her brother's hand.

"You still look terribly cross brother," she stated, frowning, "How are we to get you popular if you do not smile?"

"I do not want to be popular," Pebblefoot retorted, his voice a deep whisper.

In all veracity, though Pebblefoot had an affinity for his elder twin, he though her rather forward, both in her vernacular and in her relations with others. She was very amiable, yes, but many times, her brother could not see the maturity in her actions.

Nonetheless, he attempted daily to understand and perhaps even match the inner workings of her brain. Though twins they might be, there were things which differed in their personalities. Pebblefoot was more of the stern kind; he was blunt without shamefacedness- and yet, he managed to retain tact.

Minnowtail however was more or less a child concerning this. She was blunt, without tact, similar to a child, who told it like she saw it. It was an honesty, both brutal, yet much valued among her friends. They knew she would not lie to them, for Dawnflower had brought them up as truthful children. A lie was akin to a curse.

Pebblefoot was broken from his train of thought (which he hated), by the maiden Hollyleaf looping her arm through his free arm. Pebblefoot glanced down at the two women on his arms; they were exchanging a mischievous glance. They had left the gray-haired Willowshine alone, and the Nyland Ambassador quickly fell back to walk beside her brother and his friend.

Despite the parting citizens, bodies still pressed against the nobles, and Pebblefoot glanced uninterestedly at the merchants who called to prospective customers from thier colorful booths.

"Muslin for sale! New prints from the Dark Realm; the last before the war cuts of all trade with Sirocco!" one merchant shouted over the noise, holding up the delicate fabric imported from Sirocco.

"Over here! Come one, come all! Freshly grown fruits, right here in Nyland for a discount price! Comeeee 'n get 'em!" another man called, dipping his head to a passing woman who seemed interested in his produce. Minnowtail tugged at his shirt, snatching his attentions.

"What about getting a muslin shawl for Dapplenose?" she inquired, tiliting her head thoughtful up at her brother. The blueblood scrunched up his nose in obvious distaste.

"Doesn't she have enough already?" he inquired shortly, killing her notion at the root. Minnowtail's mouth twisted in disappointment as she nodded reluctantly, unable to deny the claim.

Out of all of Mosspelt's children, Dapplenose was least favored by Pebblefoot. She was younger sister to Willowshine, and looked almost identical to her, with her sapphire blue eyes and mottled gray curls. She was a rather haughty young woman, more frivolous than high-minded. She was contantly concerned with her beauty, her suitors, and her wardrobe.

Pebblefoot noted Pouncetail's ignoring of Dapplenose, and how, rather than doting on his younger sister, he doted on Mossypaw. Mosspelt, however, was not biased against any of her children, and loved on Dapplenose as she did Willowshine and Pouncetail. Despite all this, Duskfur, another noblewoman of the Nyland Dynasty, and also wife to Pebblefoot, had befriended the girl, apparently sympethic to Dapplenose's concerns and latest fads.

Speaking of Duskfur, Pebblefoot had not seen the brunette in a week. He was not in the least bit curious to her whereabouts, yet it was highly unusual for her not to visit him. Pebblefoot was never in their quarters, rather, he was always in his study, almost always falling asleep on the comfortable futon by the window, his company not his wife, but a lengthy tome.

The couple would not lay eyes upon each other for days on end. Minnowtail, being very close to her sister-in-law, had come to Pebblefoot on occasions before, lecturing him about how he needed to spend more quality time with his wife, and so on. Pebblefoot did not see the logic behind that. Duskfur had not married him for love, he knew that. It was practically impossible to love Pebblefoot, with his pessimism and whatnot.

Duskfur had married him for his status, and he had only agreed to her terms because his family had been nagging him to "take a wife already". So the business proposition was made between the city offical's daughter and the Nyland aristocrat. Pebblefoot was sure she was living happily, somewhere int he Nyland mansion. It really didn't matter to him whether she had his children or not, really. If anyone was to carry on Mosspelt's blood, it could be Minnowtail.

Which brought him to the point of Minnowtail and her suitors. There were many young en (all nobles) who had taken interest in his twin sister, yet she had the audacity to decline all offers sent her way. Pebblefoot knew them all; he could name them off the top of his head. There was Mousewhisker (after being denied by Hollyleaf), there was Harespring of Clonmel (a rather suitable match), there was Reedwhisker of Llainfair, and Sootfur of Aisling (because the two always had great fun together).

But the fact that Minnowtail remained unwed gladdened Pebblefoot more than he cared to admit. He glanced down fondly at the shorter woman beside him, his features softening until he bore hardly any resemblance to his normal, sullen self. How he loved his sister. It was a given, that Minnowtail would forever bring trouble, but he loved her still, and far within the depths of his soul, Pebblefoot knew that his sister would be the only woman he would ever and had ever needed by his side.

†・†

– Breezepelt –

Undeniable was the fact that he was a fool. Over and over, he had retained the habit of assuming that all humans had a heart. He had always given mankind benefit of the doubt. Without question, he had unknowingly trust those around him, people whom he had never before met. However, the method of torture and the death of his father, had once again proved him otherwise. His distant relatives were indeed void of feeling, void of the thing which made people human. It was not blood, no. It was the power of mercy, mercy and love.

Regardless, it still was a rather shocking deed, considering all of the Siroccan court held Nightcloud in high esteem, so to kill her husband was an outright act of war. However, there was a small voice in the back of his head whispering, You should be grateful to them. Crowfeather never really loved Nightcloud anyways; he simply used her, and you, to prove that he had no feelings for an ambassador. Don't be naive.

And naive, Breezepelt was not. He had been fully aware of his father's on-going secret love for Leafpool. In fact, Nightcloud had left Crowfeather because of it, taking Breezepelt back to Sirocco for a time when he had bene a young lad. Crowfeather had not gone after them, rather continued on that summer, making his customary visit to the Sweven estate, with or without Breezepelt. The young sable-haired noble had been cross when word had reached him of his father's whereabout's, and he demanded to be escorted home. His mother did not deny him, and Nightcloud journeyed back to Atlas, her tail between her legs.

Now, Breezepelt sat alone in his quarters before an open window. He was in the east wing of the Clonmal mansion, a wing on the second floor, set aside strictly for the use of Deadfoot's family. The west wing was home to Onestar, Whitetail, and their only daughter and his betrothed, Heathertail. The south wing was where guests would be housed, while on the first floor, a ballroom, large dining room, and Tallstar's rooms could be found.

It was to be Ashfoot's responsibility to decide whom to invite to her son's funeral. However, his grandmother had fainted from the sight of her murdered son, and been ill ever since. Honestly, Breezepelt was truly worried about his grandmother, however apathetic he appeared. His love for his grandmother outweighed his love for Nightcloud, for Ashfoot had listened to him, guided him. His grandparents had been better parents to him than his own. How intriguing it would be if he spoke that line at his father's funeral.

Speaking of the funeral, Nightcloud had been furious to find that her husband was to be buried beside Leafpool de Sweven. However, it was more economic than moving her body to Sweven in the middle of a war. The AtlasCore needed all the money they could get.

Not that is was any concern of Breezepelt's, but for a comical touch, he wished "Together, even in Death," to be inscribed on the tombstone which the dead aristocrats would share as of next week. His mother would definitely flip out. Breezeepelt suppressed a snicker as he imagined his mother's face, a burning bright red.

"What are you giggling at, dear?" Heathertail inquired, gliding in through the open door to stand behind him, placing white hands upon his shoulder. Breezepelt rolled his eyes crossly to himself before glance up over his shoulder at the light-brown haired woman. Didn't she know when to stop? Of course, she probably did not know this, but he could smell the small amount of guilt she had about cheating on him with that numbskull, Lionblaze.

But what was it to him, the disgruntled aristocrat thought to himself, his mood souring as he thought of the golden-haired aristocrat.

"Nothing," he replied seethingly, standing abruptly and shrugging of her hands from his narrow. The heather-hued eyes for the woman was named, narrowed slightly.

"Why are you here?" he inquired, keeping his back to her. He did not want to see her face.

What would it take for someone to truly love him, to truly show him affection, not just for his rank. Breezepelt was well aware that his father had still loved Leafpool, and that Heathertail was in love with Leafpool's nephew, Lionblaze. Everyone thought he was negative, and aloof; Breezepelt contributed that to his father's lack of support. Yes, he knew Nightcloud cherished him, after all, he was her only son.

"I'm worried about you," she replied, her voice soft with feigned concern, Breezepelt felt it.

"Like hell you are, now tell me what you are doing here," he snarled, rounding on her, his amber eyes two pools of anger. Heathertail recoiled, her gray eyes widening as she appeared taken aback. She recovered quickly enough with a scathing retort, "I live here, or have you forgotten?"

Breezepelt grunted, folding his arms across a broad chest. "And what, you live in the east wing now? Last time I recalled, east wing belongs to Deadfoot and his kin."

Heathertail placed her hand on her hip, her facial expression darkening. "Last I recalled, I can go where I please. And soon, I'll be living on this side of the house anyways; we marry early next year."

"Do we? Why do you think I would want to marry you? After all, you don't love me," Breezepelt growled, towering over her, his eyes smoldering with silent rage.

Heathertail refused to cower beneath his cold gaze. "We are betrothed, have you forgotten? And yes, I do love you, very very much. Can't you see that?" The lie passed smoothly from her lips, like honey from a comb. Yet Breezepelt had not been born yesterday. He knew. He knew when someone was cheating, when someone didn't truly love the other. When it was all just a game.

Heathertail was playing this game; a game of heartbreak, and disloyalty. And while she was not yet married to Breezepelt, she had promised herself to him, and he to her. He had not broken his promise, for while he might not truly care for her, he was loyal enough and understood what emotional complications might ensue. He did not want to be like Crowfeather. And honestly, he never wanted to marry in the first place.

"Why should I marry you?" His voice was bitter in his questioning, his eyes narrowing, daring her to cut off the engagement.

"What? What do you mean? You love me, just like I love you!" she exclaimed, her eyes switching between hurt and anger.

"It seems a terribly one-sided affair to me," he muttered, turning his head away from her. She visibly flinched at the word "affair". He simply smirked.

"Get out," he ordered, his voice cold, without any emotion or kindness.

"But-" she started.

"Out!" he growled, turning on her. "I don't want to see you're wretched face. I can't trust you when you are just like everyone else." She had backed out of the room during his rant, and now stood, shaken, outside the door.

"Disloyal," he hissed, slamming the door in her face.

Leaning against the back of the door, the Clonmel noble sent a sidelong glance at his mirror, the anger and rage melting from his face. It was replaced with an expression of pain that surprised even himself. He bowed his head, shifting himself into his more comfortable form. The beast he was inside.

Growling, the sable feline prowled forwards, inching towards the light that streamed through the window. It would soon be the end of August, and already he could feel the change of temperature in the air. Breezepelt curled up in the spot of sunlight, curling up and burying his nose in his side as he fell into a dreamless slumber. All was right with the world... For now at least.

†・†

– Rainstorm –

Unbeknownst to her, the future head of Clonmel had spent the entirety of their outing observing the mannerisms of the lady Hollyleaf. He attempted to get to know her more through simply watching her, however, Rainstorm had always been a... kinesthetic learner. It was when he had found out from Willowshine that she was very skilled with the sword, that Rainstorm was elated. Here was a perfect opportunity.

It was in the late afternoon now, that he had challenged her, after they had returned from their time on the town. Hollyleaf had graciously accepted the young man, and now he awaited her in the eastern courtyard. The horses in the stables nickered at him, whispering to themselves and giving assumptions as to what was about to commence.

She arrived precisely at five p.m, as they had agreed upon. Her curls were braided back into a single braid of hair, swinging down her back. She wore clothing very similar to his; a simple vest over a linen white shirt, patched breeches, and riding boots.

Behind her, Minnowtail and Willowshine followed, and the voices further off proclaimed that more individuals were en route.

"Have you summoned the whole Nyland Dynasty to watch us spar?" he inquired, his tone incredulous, his blue eyes sparkling in the evening sun.

"Your assumption is far from accurate, sir, though it is pretty close," Hollyleaf quiped, her green eyes hinting her amusement as she removed her sword from the hilt. The blade of the weapon glinted in the sunlight as the owner sliced through the air in front of her. Hollyleaf, ignoring Rainstorm and other other arriving nobles, lunged forwards at her imaginary opponent, moving with precision and accuracy of the blade.

Apparently, this was simply a warm-up for the female aristocrat and Mossypaw clapped enthusiastically was she walked in on the rear end of the demonstration. Hollyleaf flipped her braid over her shoulder, winking to her impressed audience.

"She's been taking swordsmanship classes since the age of four, with one of the most prestigious sword masters in Atlas," Willowshine recited to Dapplenose as the young woman took a seat beside her sister.

"Don't tell me," Dapplenose gushed, whipping open a fan which she had had in her gloved hand at the moment. "Are we speaking of General Thornclaw?"

Willowshine shook her head. "Among all the fighters in in Atlas, there are three most notable: Sandstorm, Brackenfur, and Thornclaw. Brackenfur of Aisling Dynasty was her mentor."

Rainstorm slid his own sword from its hilt, nodding with and impressed frown donning his features. Than she wasn't rusty in swordplay. That was good, however, he didn't intend to go easy on her just because she was a woman. Rainstorm had also been taught by a master of swordsmanship, in fact, Revenant's best, a man by the name of Runningwind.

"Alright Rainstorm, quit dallying," Pouncetail called out teasingly from his post behind his sisters. Rainstorm threw his friend a dark look before rolling his eyes and commencing his stance. Hollyleaf faced him, not eagerly, but rather, reserved. She held the hilt of her sword in both hands, eyeing Rainstorm ruefully.

"Are you sure you don't want to use wooden swords? I don't like playing with little boys who are afraid to get hurt," she told him, her voice mocking in its tone.

Rainstorm smirked at her suggestively, lifting his chin to her. "I don't like playing with girls who think so highly of themselves, Miss," he replied easily as the two began to circle one another. Rainstorm had the advantage here, considering he was stronger, and also, his Element was water. If she dared try anything with her fire element, he would defeat her in a moment.

How he looked forward to this...

* * *

**A/N**: Here is another chapter for those few who read this fanfiction. I really do need reviews to fuel my writing guys. I have added a sub plot which has to do with Pebblefoot, and I hope you all enjoy it. A special thank you to Rebellegirl for her unwavering support. I updated for you dear. Also, thank you for reading my little drabble. Chao


	7. A Small Notice

To those who are looking forward to the next chapter:  
No I am not dead, and I do apologized for being unable to put up a chapter at the moment. Under certain circumstances, I have been somewhat injured an must attend physical therapy for three weeks. I have not been able to write much. However, I have good news. I am planning for a second book to make this into a series.

- Blackeh


	8. Shades of Gray

**|shades of gray|**

– Leopardstar –

"We aren't going to win this war is things continue on life this." Dustpelt's voice was dark as he pronounced the obvious. The noise of the war front drifted through the open flaps of the tent, echoing in through the hearing of the assembled nobles.

"You say it like there is no hope," Graystripe remarked gravely, his thick gray brow furrowed in worry.

"There isn't, dammit!" The head of the Mendebras Dynasty hissed, banging his fist against the table and turning smoldering amber eyes on his fellow noble.

Leopardstar hovered in the background, her arms folded over her armored chest. "We are losing men left and right without the Acazin to head our medic teams." Her amber eyes were grim with the prospect of having to surrender to the likes of Scorchfur and Hawkfrost. It didn't help that the Nyland general had once been in love with the father of the latter, and would have done anything for him at a point in time. And though she hated him with all her heart, Leopardstar doubted she would have been able to kill the man when the chance came.

"There is also the topic of the mysterious deaths if our sentries of late." It was Firestar who brought this issue to the forefront, his green eyes glazed with worry. Beside him, Bramblestar nodded, his forehead wrinkling in concentration. The female aristocrat could not help the shiver that slithered down her spine. Those who stood sentry for night-watch, were almost always found dead the next morning. The cause of death was unknown, but there was always a clean mark down the abdomen of the victim, their intestines scooped out.

The tent was silent was for a few moments as each noble tried to pin the cause of the murders, while allaying his or her own fears.

"Winter is approaching," Stonefur stated, snapping out of his thoughts before the other nobles did, "and our rations are falling to dangerously low numbers." His slanted amber eyes flashed darkly with a grim foresight of the future.

The September winds were becoming colder, and there was a possibility of many soldiers deserting the AtlasCore, leaving Thornclaw many men short. And if the War Council gathered here did not have enough in thier budget to feed and cloth their soliders, the war would be already lost. Leopardstar glanced at the golden-haired general. Thornclaw seemed to have aged three years or so, and the tire in his body could now be seen. He was getting old, and soon, the council would have to nominate a new general to take his place after retirement. Leopardstar had been passed over to be head of the Nyland due to her former romantic connections with Hawkfrost's father, Leopardstar hoped she would be nominated as general.

Firestar stood, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger. They were all tired.

"I must be going now," he said, gathering the papers from his place at the table before him. "I have the funeral of my daughter to attend." His voice was tired and mournful, as if the former vibrance of the red-headed leader had been sucked out of him.

Leopardstar caught his gaze, dipping her head to him in affirmation. Beside him, Deadfoot shifted, also collecting the maps he had draw. "I shall accompany you, my friend," he replied, his voice low, his eyes hollow. Leopardstar had almost forgotten that Deadfoot had also lost a child; Crowfeather had been his only son. The rest of the War Council stood respectfully as the two, mourning fathers left the meeting tent.

Leaning off the man pillar of the tent, Leopardstar drew closer to the table, entering into the range of light. "Won't you also be going, Bramblestar? After all, wasn't she your sister-in-law?" The amber-eyed head of Pevensy stifled a growl, his eyes stoic, but she could see he was thinking.

"Lionblaze is going to go in a few hours," he replied coolly, averting his eyes from her prying gaze. "I'll be going then." With that statement, Pevensy stalked out of the tent, his hands dug in his pockets.

Leopardstar bit the inside of her lip, deep in thought. Bramblestar had been rather tense, the past few days, and he hadn't expressed the reason. Perhaps it was his relationship with Squirrelflight? Leopardstar wondered, the red-haired woman flashing before her eyes, her green eyes daring. No, that wasn't it. It seemed more likely to Leopardstar that the reason was intimately woven witht he fact that Hawkfrost was the enemy general. Bramblestar was fighting against his brother.

Leopardstar bowed her head to the golden-haired general, walking out of the meeting tent and leaving Thornclaw and Dustpelt to thier own devices. Ducking under the tent flaps, the chilly autumn air greeted her, stinging her eyes so that the aristocrat had to narrow amber eyes. Her hand was trained on the hilt of her sword, her eyes taking in the mess on her rubber boots as she slushed though the swampy, muddy war front.

Soliders watched her, bowing at the waist as she passed. Her dark golden hair fluttered in the faint wisps of wind, and Leopardstar thought that soon, the first snowfall would be seen in the mountains. The Nyland woman strode over to her horse, a dun mare by the name of Andersair. An attending solider, a favorite of hers by the name of Shadepelt, stood by the horse with a firm grip on the horse's leather reigns, a watchful green eye landing on any who passed her.

"Shadepelt!" The young woman glanced up at the voice her commander, relaxing as the golden-haired noble approached. The dark-haired woman smiled grimly, holding out the reigns to her superior as Leopadstar stopped before Andersair, caressing the neck of the swift mare with a gloved hand.

"Oh don't look so, Shadepelt." Leopardstar smiled at her aide. "You look as if you are kin to the grim reaper."

Shadepelt's face remained deadpan, her green eyes following the senior officer as Leopardstar mounted the mare. Only when Leopardstar was astride Andersair did Shadepelt mount her own steed. "It was never my intention to displease you, Commander," the gray-haired woman replied quietly, her eyes focused ahead. Leopardstar shook her head good-naturedly. "It is not me you displease, but the lonely men around you. I'm sure it raises thier morale to see a woman every once in a while."

Shadepelt's green eyes grew wide, her cheek flushing against her will and her jaw clenching. There was a whistle from a group of men as the two departing women passed, and Leopardstar winked at Shadepelt. "See, a little color in those cheeks and every man in camp notices you." Shadepelt threw the golden-haired officer a dirty look and promptly drove her horse into a canter leaning low on its back. Leopardstar gave a laugh, waving back at the men before following her overly serious aide out of Thornclaw's camp, and further down the frontlines to her own.

†・†

– Hollyleaf –

She had lost to him, of course. Despite the fact she may have matched Rainstorm in skill, she could not surpass him in strength, she had known that. She had lost as graciously as a lady could, muttering curses under her breath only when she was sure that her peers were out of earshot.

It was the following day, and the young mistress was acutely aware of the lingering soreness that plauged her limbs. She walked arm-in-arm with Willowshine and Minnowtail, Duskfur and Dapplenose gossiping not far behind them. Minnotail was in a particularly spiteful mood, her eyes shimmering with anticipation at a prank she had played on Pebblefoot, just to see the sour look upon his face. Willowshine had simply shaken head the at the elder aristocrat, marveling at how childish she could act.

Hollyleaf had joined in, just for the fun of it, except her victim had been the much more amiable Rainstorm. The sable-haired noble had done it to execute judgement upon the blue-eyed man, for his win in yesterday's match. Hollyleaf felt lighter, more at peace with herself after having committed the mischievous deed. The two young men had almost woken up, due to the smother giggling of the girls, and Minnowtail had practically shoved Hollyleaf out of Rainstorm's room when he had turned over on his side, groaning peacefully.

"They'll be a sight for sore eyes," Minnowtail predicted, squeezing Holyleaf's arm in anticipation.

They'll be mad too," Willowshine stated, twirling a long strand of gray hair arounf her index finger. "Which is why," Hollyleaf reminded them knowingly, "we are going to be found as far from the scene as possible."

Willowshine laughed lightheartedly, and Hollyleaf smiled at a dark brunette as the shy servant girl passed with a basket full of clean laundry. The amber-eyed woman simply dipped her head timidly before hurrying away to attend to her duties.

"Will you be attending the funeral?" The question was directed from Hollyleaf to Willowshine. The Nyland ambassador nodded solemnly, all laughter faded from her face.

"Leafpool was a mentor to me when Mothwing was unable to guide me. The least I can do to return my thanks is to honor her in death." Willowshine's eyes were plantive as she said this, her tone rather quiet.

"When do you leave?" Minnowtail inquired. The gray-haired woman had decided to attend the funeral to support her two friends in their mourning.

"Tomorrow," Hollyleaf replied, her green eyes focused on the ground before her.

"I had heard that Vansant would be shipping a few representatives to attend the funeral; it appears that they were close with Leafpool." Minnowtail reported.

"Vansant? The republic island?" Hollyleaf inquired, her tone incredulous. Minnowtail nodded, unsure of what she had said.

"Vansant has nothing to do with the afairs of the Three Realm," the young mistres huffed, "They just sit on their little island, always neutral when it comes to sides on the mainland."

"I've heard that Revenant is on very good terms with the Vans, seeing as the two countries trade alot."

"What was the name of their Chancellor?"

"He is called Oakstep," Willowshine informed them. "Apparently his term is soon to be up, for he had been in office for about fourteen years."

"I heard that there are a few rising politicians who have married women of nobility from Revenant. It appears they are looking to take the chancellorship," Hollyleaf added, her green eyes flashing with indignation at the thought.

"Oh, I know who you are talking about!" Minnowtail interjected. "Squirrelfur, Mothpelt, and Robinwing?" Hollyleaf nodded crossly, her eyes narrowing. The act of men taking women to marry who held high positions in society was on uncommon, yet the lack of freedom which the women were given in the matter was completely unnerving to the sable-haired Pevensy woman.

A furious yell sounded from the mansion, wafting through the gardens, and to the ears of of the young women. Willowshine's eyes widened, and Minnowtail threw a glance over her shoulder in the direction they had just come form. Behind them, Dapplenose and Duskfur were quickening thier pace, eyes wide.

"That was most like Pebblefoot," Minnowtail grinned sheepishly, quickening her gait. Hollyleaf was rather shaken, but quickly composed herself, running after Minnowtail and dragging WIllowshine in her wake.

The young mistress closed those emerald orbs, relishing the feeling of the the zyphers dancing through her sable curls. The sun shone down upon the group of young ladies, and through grief still plauged her heart, Hollyleaf felt at peace with her friends. It was at times like this when she thought about her husband, out on the warfront somewhere, facing the horros of battle without her by his side. Each day she checked the scrolls of the deceased with a sense of dread, and each day, she went away relieved.

She was not comfortable like this, hiding behind the walls of the cities and withing the mansions of Atlas. She longed to be on the frontlines, fighting beside her brothers, beside her countrymen. But because she was a woman, a noble woman at that... But Bramblestar did not what to lose his only daughter, and Firestar did not want to lose his only grand-daughter. If she wanted to join in the war, Hollyleaf would have to fight. Somehow, she would enlist, not for herself, but for the sake of her aunt. She intended to reap vengeance. For where there was a will, there was a way.

†・†

– Pebblefoot –

Almond–shaped eyes held a dark fury within them, and the ashen-haired aristocrat had made it clear he was in no mood to be trifled with. All the evidence pointed to a certain noblewoman of the Nyland Dynasty. Did she really think that simply because she was his sister, that she would get away with it this time? It was the last time Pebblefoot was going to made a fool of. He was going to find Minnowtail and put an end to all this madness without ending her life.

It was no surprise to him that his sister was missing, and neither did it please him. He just wanted to ring her little neck..

"My, my Pebblefoot. Quite the wardrobe you've got there." Pebblefoot rounded to see Rippletail, his dark blue eyes twinkling in amusement as he eyed the younger aristocrat. Mintfur was not far behind him. Pebblefoot's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening.

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" Pebblefoot growled, stalking away and brushing a feather away from his coat. Rippletail followed.

"Nowhere but by your side," the dark gray-haired taunted, running up to Pebblefoot's side. The latter cringed, his eyes narrowing. Rippletail was the main reason he was so ill-tempered. The man didn't know when to stop his teasing, and no one told him when enough was enough. Either that, or he did not listen.

"Mintfur." Pebblefoot pointedly ignored the older man, adressing the quieter of the two. "What are you doing here?" The question came out as a snarl, but the pale-haired man did not flinch as he followed his bickering cousins.

"I am actually looking for Minnowtail... I wanted to speak with her." The latter part of the sentence he said shyly.

"Well that makes both of us." Pebblefoot's tone was dry, and he couldn't help but roll his eyes.

Before Pebblefoot could dodge away, Rippletail slung his arm over Pebblefoot's narrow shoulders, a grin lighting up his features.

"You know, Pebble," Rippletail whispered into his ear. "You bear a strong resemblence to Dapplenose." To which Pebblefoot gritted his teeth. It was with not a little patience that he uttered the following: "That is not my name."

Rippletail pish-poshed him, claiming that Pebblefoot took his joking far to seriously. Greatly annoyed, Pebblefoot stalked away, his hands dug in his pocket, peeling away from his cousins and slipping into his study. They would be departing for the funeral tomorrow, and he still had not packed his things.

The trip to Clonmel would be rather lengthy, seeing as the Nyland Dynasty was on the far southeastern part of the island, and would have to travel up, northwest, towards the Siroccan border, to reach Clonmel. Between the two provinces were the many other provinces, and each once would have to be passed through. While the Air wielders had more ease, seeing as they were able to fly, the water weilder were forced to take the long way, rather than circling around Revenant on the seas. Pebblefoot cursed underneath his breath as he uncerimoniously threw a few of his belongings in a rather tattered suitcase, his favorite.

"Master Pebblefoot," a soft voice sounded behind him, causing the gray-haired noble to glance up from his work. Leopardstar's servant girl, Otterfur, stood in the doorway, her hands clasped before her in a respectful fashion. Pebblefoot stood up to his full hieght, eyeing the brown-haired young woman.

"Let me pack fo' ya," she offered, fixing amber eyes upon his vesitage.

After considering her proposition, the grumpy young noble nodded sullenly, skulking over to his bookself, and all the while keeping an eye on the girl.

†・†

– Hollyleaf–

It was the day subsequent to the prankplaying on the two Nyland noblemen, and after a very long journey by carriage, the Nyland entorage finally arrived in the Clonmel Province. Now it took a day to reach the capital of Clonmel from the border, and so Hollyleaf had become rather tired of watching the the same scenery pass over and over again. The awed villagers and peasants watched the decorated horses and carriages, the many footmen who flanked the sides of the entrouge as they journeyed on the many roads.

There had been news of Siroccan attacks inside the Atlas border, and the High Council was not taking any risks in protecting the aristocrats remaining in Atlas. It would be something of a riot if all those who still remained in Atlas were to be assassianate. That would leave the Middle Realm without leadership, and no doubt, the Siroccans would find an inlet. There were those among the aristocrasy who were not particularly trustworthy, Hollyleaf mused to herself, emerald green orbs disappearing and reappearing as she blinked.

Pebblefoot sat beside her, his eyes closed in light slumber. Minnowtail sat on his otherside, her head leaning peacefully upon the shoulder of her much taller sibling. A soft smile graced the sable-haired mistress' lips as she glanced at the snoozing duo. Willowshine also was asleep across from Minnowtail, leaning her silver head against the wall of the coach. Wistfully, Hollyleaf glanced out of her window once more, lifting her left hand up to her head to pull at her audit. It was habit she couldn't seem to get rid off; it was somehow comforting.

Abuptly, Hollyleaf stiffened, green orbs flashing dangerously. Across from her Rainstorm also stiffened, leaning forward, his cyan-hued eyes forming an unspoken question. What is it? Hollyleaf bit her lip, shaking her head to reasure herself. Relax, she told herself, attempting to lean back into the carriage. But she could not. She could hear them, the many wheels of chariots. The many hoofbeats of horses.

The irriation of the young mistress grew, as her nostrils first inhaled... then exhaled. Distress contorted her every feature as she identified the scent that filtered into her nose. The smell of sweat, mixed with the aroma of mountian air... and something else. Siroccans. Chartuese eyes dilated as Hollyleaf heartbeat began to quicken. What are they doing so far within the border? Had not the border patrols put an end to all the foes who attempted to send troops across? Sure the frontlines weren't nessacarily next to Clonmel, but the Siroccan mountain were. They came through the Alondey Pass! Could there be gaps in their defense?

Panic raged through her body and adrilenine rushed through her veins. There was no time to wonder or speculate. If the Siroccans caught up to the envoy, they would kill all of the nobles and the forces. National chaos would ensue.

"We need to go faster," she told Rainstorm, who had kept his eyes intently upon her face until that moment.

"Huh?" Her tone aparently took the Nyland aristocrat by surprise. He recovered quickly however, and his face became a mask of sulleness.

"Hollyleaf, be reasonable. The horses and the footmen are tired." His eyes pierced hers. "We've been traveling for days. We are going to take it easy."

"Take it easy?" she screeched, her eyes alight with a terrible wildness. Beside her, Pebblefoot had awoken, and was now observing her with large eyes.

"Take it easy for the price of my life?" the young mistress ranted, her raven curls flying as she lunged forward.

"Hell will freeze over before I fall because of your arrogance." With that, Hollyleaf threw open the carriage door, and before the remaining three could stop her, she lept out of the carriage. Her milky skin began to bring forth perseration under the heat of the mid-day sun, combining it with the effort of her leap up onto the top of the carriage.

"Mi'lady?" The coachman's eyes widened as she appeared behind him. It was time for Hollyleaf to take things into her own hands.

"I'm sorry, good man." Dragging the reigns from his hands, Hollylead shrugged him over, and raising her arms, drought the riegns down with a mighty "thwack". The poor horses reared and whinnied in revolt, but darted forwards, pulling the carriage at breakneck speed. A wild grin pulled at the lips of the sable-haired Pevensy; she was going to make sure that this would be one wild ride.

†・†

– Pebblefoot –

He was incredibly vexed after the stunt the Pevensy girl had pulled earlier today. Not only that, his body cursed at him as he moved, his muscles tight and sore. With the arrival at the Clonmel Estate, Pebblefoot had promptly dissapeared into the surronding gardens, leaving the rest of the Nyland envoy to greet the other Dynasties.

He was not a very social person, and the lone winds of the Clonmel suited him better as company than the other babbling nobles he would be forced to socialize with. Mumbling to himself, the pallid-skinned noble rubbed at his aching shoulder, his eyes stinging as he entered the outside once again. Being the northernmost provience within Atlas and much closer to the mountains, the winter winds were settling sooner upon Clonmel, and already, a hint of frost would be felt.

But it suited Pebblefoot, and he almost instantly relaxed under the cool evening breeze that swept through the Clonmel gardens. He had lost sight of Minnowtail the moment they had entered he mansion. She had instantly been surrounded by friends, and been taken away from his side. Though he should have been, Pebblefoot was not yet used to the fact that his sister was always leaving him behind. One day, he was sure that he would lose her for good.

But then, a wandering soul in isolation, had no need for a place to belong. That was Pebblefoot's motto in this life full of vanity. He had never really been the philsophical observant type, more like the grumpy sort. However, as Pebblefoot had aged, he had soon come to realize the small, seemingly insignificant things in life. For instance, the flush in the cheeks of an expecting mother, the happiness of two lovers, no matter how poor they might be, and the fact that no matter how hard one worked, they could not escape the bonds of society's heirarchy. The blood-bloods of Atlas would not allow that to happen. It had taken years of blood and sweat to rise to the highest rankings of Atlas, and while the country considered everyone as equal, the ideology ended up twisting into a lesser evil throughout the centries.

And now, war had come to the Middle Realm. After much war within itself, Atlas now raged war with a greater opponent, over what? Pebblefoot knew not. Religion, ideology, resources, land, spite, love or just because… No matter how pathetic the reason, it was enough to start war. War would never cease to exist… reasons can be thought up after the fact… It seemed that human nature pursued strife. What was the cause of the Siroccan war? Was it a holy war?

His gaze shifted upwards from their focus on his boots to the scenery infont of him. The winds had wafted the fragment of sentences to his ears, hushed voices a drift on the swaying grasses. Now, dispite how grumpy he might appear to the reader, he still retained a hardly satsified curiosity. It was this curiousity that drove him closer, his steps nearly inaudiable to the untrained ear. Peering through a vine-ridden terrace, the young nobleman indentified two forms, one of a man, the other of a woman. Apparently the two had searched out a quiet place to be alone.

The sable-haired man was upon one knee before the woman, gazing up into her face beseechingly. It was then that Pebblefoot deduced that the two must be lovers, and that the prostrated man was proposed to his beloved. There was a part of Pebblefoot that harbored guilt; he felt as if he was intruding on a most precious of moments. But Pebblefoot had never had much regard for things such a these, so what did it matter? After all, he was the only one who knew he was eavesdropping on the two.

Narrowing his eyes, Pebblefoot focused up the face of the unknown woman. As his eyes roved over her curves and distinct stance, his eyesbrows furrowed. His eyes would recognize her anywhere. Minnowtail. Minnowtail? MINNOWTAIL?! How was this possible? Wait, there was completely plausible explination for this situation... right? Yes, here it is. Minnowtail is breath-takngly beautiful, and some nobleman (whom he still had not yet identified), was smitten with her and wanted to marry her. Of Minnowtail would have many suitors. Who was he kidding? Himself... evidently.

The only thinkg that mattered was that Minnowtail declined the marriage proposal. And she would, right? An uncertain grin curved upon Pebblefoot's thin, chapped lips, his eyes taking on a wild light. He needed Minnowtail. Hevean and earth could pass away, but as long as his twin sister was by his side, Pebblefoot could keep on living... even in hell if he had too.

"Yes." Those three letters broke him out of his trouble reverie and Pebblefoot snapped back to reality, realizing that the word had come from his sister's mouth.

"Yes Sootfur. I will marry you," the gray-haired woman exclaimed, tears of joy causing her voice to waver. It was then that it hit Pebblefoot as the two lovers embraced. His sister was coing to wed to Sootfur. The damned snake had courted Minnowtail under Pebblefoot's nose. Now that he thought about it, Pebblefoot had often seen Minnowtail in Sootfur's company. He had thought nothing of it. He realized now that it was this that had been his own undoing.

Pebblefoot turned away, staggering as a drunk man in bewilderment. With one word, how had his life changed so dramatically. He could already feel the change setting in. With every fading wisp of sunlight, every breeze that brushed against his flushed cheek, with every step he took away from his sister and her fiancee. Steps that would only make wider the gap which had now been unveiled between the two. Except, only Pebblefoot could see it.

†・†

– Rainstorm–

Word had come to the young master by the mouth of a servant that the attending nobles had arrived earlier in the day from the frontlines. It was odd, however, for Rainstorm had not laid eyes upon any of thier respective vestiges, much less any inhabitants of the Clonmel Dynasty itself. According to Sunnytail (his servant), Breezepelt had not moved from the Lady Ashtail's side in over a day, and as soon as Deadfoot had returned from the frontlines, he had joined his grandson in watch over the sleeping noblewoman.

Onestar was meeting with the the other heads of the Dynasty who had trekked to the Clonmel Province, no doubt about the Siroccan raidings on his border towns. As to the whereabouts of those with whom he had come, Rainstorm was clueless. He had left them to go and nap in his guest quarters. Now he had awakened, and desired good company. Yawning uncerimoniously, Nyland's future head of Dynasty strode over to his door, cringing at the creak which the hinges made, before sticking his head out to survey the halls.

They were empty, and not a soul was to be heard either. This was rather abnormal for the young lord, seeing as he was always surrounded with activity. He decided he would search for a particular sable-haired Pevensy woman. Rainstorm had a mind to interrigate her as to what she had been thinking when she had lept out of the carriage. Not only was it unlady-like, but she could have been severely injured.

Easing the door closed behind him, Rainstorm preceeded to travel down the carpeted hall, ignoring the stern faces of those in the portaits that lined the walls. However, he soon halted, and then darted back the way he had come, easing himself into a corner behind a large trapestry. He had heard footsteps. he had no idea why, but the Nyland nobleman had been inclined to hide himself form whomever was mounting the stairwell, and so he had followed his instincts and done so. He was usually right anyways.

The footsteps passed him, sounding somewhat gingerly across the floor, as the rug muffled the clank of the person's heels. Pulling the tapestry back a tad bit so that he could see whom had passed, Rainstorm's blue eyes latched onto Heathertail's vestige as she stopped before the seventh door on the left. He was going to call to her, but it seemed that she did not want to be found out, as she nervously looked one way, and then the other.

As the Clonmel woman seemingly gathered her courage, Rainstorm watched Heathertail raise her hand, curling it into a fist, and rapping twice upon the wooden door before her. She shifted impatiently as she waited a few seconds before the door opened, and in the doorway stood a shirtless Lionblaze. His golden hair was ruffled, and his eyes droppy from sleep. He semed to become more alert however, when Heathertail placed a chaste kiss on his lips and slipped past Lionblaze into his room. The golden haired aristocrat disappeared behind her, shutting the door in his wake. Silence reigned once more.

†・†

– Hollyleaf–

The day of the funeral was sunny and bright, unlike those in the stories, as the nobles filed into the pews of the large Protestant cathedral. The black-clad figures seemed to droop as the bishop droned on about Christ and His words on the resserection and a crown of life that awaited the two deceased aristocrats in the world wonder there. The young mistress appeared worse off than the entire lot of them, for her eyes had become red and puffy from the silent tears she had shed the night before, and the tears which rained down upon her cheeks now. This, and the fact that she had hardly gotten any sleep, and seemed more pale than usual.

Now Hollyleaf was seated upon the right front pew, along with Crowfeather's family, and Lionblaze. The rest of the Pevensy and Sweven Dynasties took up the other front pew. The sable-haired sylph had no idea as to how she had come to be seated beside Breezepelt, but she was. He never once looked at her, seemingly ignoring the existence of the two Pevensys. Hollyleaf was not aware of anything that she had done, and consider the possibility that grief made him as cold towards her as he had been before the two had gotten to know each other.

As she gazed upon her aunt's peaceful face framed by light brown hair, Hollyleaf thought back to the many time Leafpool had shown her compassion and love. The many kind deeds that she had watched her aunt do. It was not wonder that Hollyleaf had desired to become Ambassador for the Pevensy Dynasty, just as her aunt Leafpool was Ambassador for the Sweven Dynasty. Beside Hollyleaf, her aunt Mothwing, who had been very close with Leafpool, wiped a tear from those mesmerizing amber eyes, before placing her gloved hands back in her lap.

It was at this that tears began to form in Hollyleaf's green optics, and her eyes shimmered with their unshed bodies. She bent her head down, her long hair covering her face from the sight of those who were seated beside her. Her mouth contorted into a pout as she attempted to keep her tears within their floodgates, but to no avail. Her body heaved gently as the tears came, and rather than using her handkerchief to wipe them away, Hollyleaf twisted the material in her hands. It had been Leafpool. Her aunt had given it to Hollyleaf on her 11th birthday, and Hollyleaf had treasured it ever since. Now, she treasured it even more.

A warm hand covered her cold ones, wresting her left hand from the cloth and held her hand between them. Hollyleaf raised her eyes to Breezepelt's stoic face, somewhat shocked by his gesture. He cut a glance her way, amber meeting green, and gave her hand a slight squeeze. Hollyleaf's eyes gave forth more tears, and she bowed her head against, staring at the wrinkled kerchief in her lap. Breezepelt had not forgotten her in his grief. They were both suffering, and since they were, why not suffer together?

Not thinking, Hollyleaf lay her head on Breezpelt's shoulder, letting forth a shaky sigh. Breezepelt stiffened at the contact and Hollyleaf's cheeks flushed a bright red as she realized what she had done. She was about to removed her head, when Breezepelt placed an understanding kiss upon her silky hair, and Hollyleaf relaxed beside him. She bite her lip through the rest of the lengthy three hour service, fighting to keep the tears that threatened to escape.

For the reach of the day, she and Breezepelt found strength in one another's presence, and wandered away from the grieving company to walk together through the gardens, Hollyleaf's arm looped through his. They recalled the good times each had shared with Leafpool and Crowfeather respectively, sad smiles adorning thier faces as they recalled the faded past.

There was a point when they had stopped in a large field behind the second building that composed the Clonmel estate, and Breezepelt had begun to cry. It was the first time he had shed a tear since his father had died.

"I never felt as though i was truly his son," Breezepelt hiccuped, glancing up at his companion who was seated on the wooden fence post. Hollyleaf had embraced him, and he lay against he bosom, tears springing up once again in the amber eye.

"Perhaps I was a failure to him as his only child." He went on, relaxing against the warm body beneath him as he continued to vent.

"Crowfeather, Nightcloud and I. We were never truly a family. I feel more attached to my grandparents than I do to my own mother and father." Hollyleaf watched with sympathy as Breezepelt balled his hands into hard fists.

"No one has every truly shown me affection, and just as I thought that I was geting closer to my father, he was ripped from my grasp."

Breezepelt raised his eyes to her own, his cheeks wet with the tears of grief. "He was brutally murdered by a man I call cousin. Hollyleaf, how can I avenge him? I do not desire to take a life of someone who shares the same blood as I."

Hollyleaf dropped her gaze from his as he searched her face, as if intently looking for the answer in her feature. She didn't know what to say. Yes, she knew that blood was thicker than water, and Breezepelt's loyalty towads his family would never waver. However, who had meant more to him in his childhood? Could those cousins whom he spoke of replace his father?

"Answer me." His voice was an order and a plea. The look in his eyes was that of one who was lost, without a light to guide him. It was then that Hollyleaf realized that Breezepelt thought himself alone in the world now. With Ashfoot in a coma, his mother living in Sirocco, and his father dead, who else did he have to rely on?

"You have me as an ally," Hollyleaf whispered into his dark hair as he stared up at her. Sure, it may not have been the answer he had desired, but it had come from her heart. She could only hope that it reached his.

In a swift movement, Hollyleaf felt Breezepelt's arms encircle her waist as she fell towards him, his face drawing closer and closer to her own. And then the kiss. His lips met hers with a hunger and want that blinded even her to the situation. The feel of his lips upon hers warmed her entire body, and the tears that coated her orbs spilled out to the corners of her eyes as she closed them, relishing the closeness of another human being. Right now, it did not matter her where they were, or whom she was kissing. All she needed right now was a loving touch, this relief. It came from some who understood, and felt the black gulf which was threatening to drown her in her grief.

At that moment, Fallenleaves was the farthest time from her mind.

†・†

– Leopardstar–

Silence. Silence. No life to be heard. The birds had halted their cheerful song, and the air was filled with tension. The brown grasses of the plain swayed knowingly, concealing within their depths the advance of the AtlasCore. From a bird's eye view, thousands of soldiers crawled on their abdomens through the grasses of the plain in which the Siroccans had a base.

Intel had informed a certain golden-haired commander as to the whereabouts of the enemy encampment and the prime time at which to strike. There were sentries to the east, north, and south, but the west had been left open. Leopardstar and Shadepelt had gotten their men across the border and behind enemy lines, and now, they were advancing from the south.

And now was the time of vindication. Judgement had placed itself at the foot of the fierce Atlas commander and she intended to dish it out to her fullest physical and mental powers. Beside her, Shadepelt nodded, going on a ahead to dispose of the lone sentry who stood guard towards the south as his comrades prepared to move camp. Leopardstar watched with eager eyes as the young man fell. Now was the time to win, and at all costs, she would do what she had to to make this win possible.

"Attack!"

* * *

**A/N: **I would like to take the time out to thank those who have recently followed my story and reviewed. I have been suffering from severe writer's block, so having new faces really pushed me further. This chapter may not be as good as those preceeding it, so bare with me. I've been swamped with school, and I am moving.  
Please show some love and review. Thank you.


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